


Chronicles of Valentine

by dracoqueen22



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/M, Final Fantasy Fusion, Immortality, M/M, POV First Person, Suicide Attempt, canon fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 82,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with a woman named Lucrecia, or so I've long lamented. Cursed with this immortal body, I suffered through the ages. But now, centuries later, I may have found my redemption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written over the course of 2007-2010, am now cross-posting it for archival purposes. As a result, it ignores the existence of Dirge of Cerberus and Crisis Core. 
> 
> The dates headlining each chapter and section are arbitrary and chosen based on the release date for Final Fantasy VII. It is only meant to be a timekeeper for the reader and not based on any real timeline of when Final Fantasy VII/VIII is said to take place.

**Prologue**

It all started with a woman named Lucrecia.

My downfall was that I loved her. Hopelessly and completely devoted to a sweet and innocent brunette scientist who blamed herself for my father's death. She pushed me away because of that. I wanted to hold her, tell her that it was all right, that she couldn't be faulted for her science... but I was never given the chance.

I want to believe that she loved me in return. But thinking back on it now, I was probably delirious, reflecting my own selfish feelings on her. I wanted her to love me, I wanted us to be together and happy, to see that smile every day. It's hard to say when or why I first found that I had given my heart to her. Just one day, it was there and the next, gone, flitted away like dust in the wind. Captivated by brown eyes and smooth skin. Hopeless... I was completely hopeless.

And just like any love struck fool, it was my passion that betrayed me in the end. It made me weak. I was unable to protect her. I was unable to save the child. I fell to a sadistic scientist with an even more vicious mentality, subject to his every whim and plot thinly veiled underneath the covering of 'science'. Yes, Dr. Hojo couldn't even be called so. The things he performed, the _creatures_ he created... they should never have existed.... Sephiroth should have never been born.

No, wait. Perhaps it is not that Sephiroth should have never been born. He should have been birthed to another family. One that would love him, care for him... raise him as a child should. But then, that would just be providing an excuse for the insane and tormented young man's deeds. Not that I could blame him. If my father had injected me with burning poison and raised me to be a killing machine, I might want to find a 'promised land' as well. Even if it took destroying the world to get to it.

I suppose you believe I'm talking in riddles right now. Maybe so. After living so long, there are many things I gave up on. All the lifetimes I've suffered, the years passing by like seconds, an endless monotony of time. I saw war, great war... and suffering. Experienced two famines racing across the western continent and struggled to maintain a grip on sanity as my body continued to live... unable to die. Not with these vermin inside of me. For centuries, after my third love died of old age without me, my only companions were the bloodthirsty creatures that Hojo had spliced into me. It was a tireless, ceaseless existence and still I tread onwards. I never gave up though I didn't know what I was searching for.

Her? Peace? Redemption? After a time, it all faded and became meaningless. I merely wandered, a ghost on the face of Gaia, a face that I allowed no one to see, watching from the sidelines as the ancestors of those that worked to save the planet grew and thrived... even without the energies of the Lifestream. For that much I was thankful. Perhaps we had done some good.

When the last of my companions died, officially leaving me alone in the world, I tried to end my life, thinking that I would join them, allow my essence to mingle with that of the Lifestream's. But my efforts were for naught, even the variety of ways I had attempted. It appeared Chaos and his other demonic accomplices were not quite willing to give up their time on Gaia and as such, I was forced to live, forever sustained by their vile energies.

I ranted and raved, railed against the unfairness of it all, but in the end I relented and lived. Lucrecia would have wanted me to. She wouldn't have wanted me to wallow in my misery. No. Not my sweet Lucrecia. I can see her now, those shining brown eyes. And so we come full circle, back to the woman that started it all. A romantic dream perhaps, a hope for what once was. Even now, centuries later, so far in the future from that time that the entire world has changed, as I lay dying, I can still recall her face in full clarity and with such fondness.

No, dying is actually the wrong word. Truthfully, I am wasting away, my body breaking apart from the inside out. Not even the vigor of the demonic spirits enough to sustain my weary frame. I'm degenerating, deteriorating into nothing more than a shell of the great Turk I once was. My body wracks with pain, shuddering with each torn breath and blood flecks onto my lips but in many ways I relish the agony.

Freedom... that is what this coppery liquid tastes like to me. Freedom from my endless wandering, from a life that just won't end. I can be at peace. See my dear sweet Lucrecia in that endless conscious. Be with my companions again, though reluctant we all were, we saved the world. And my lovers, I will be able to see their faces once more although I regret leaving him behind.

He will understand, I can only hope. He is, after all, a mercenary. But there are others who will be there for him, if he dares open his eyes and see what has always been right behind him. He won't be alone for long.

His hand is wrapped tightly around mine, clutching tightly as if believing he can hold my weary spirit within or my fractured body together. Those jade eyes shine with unshed tears but he won't let them fall. I know my lover far too well for that. He is strong, perhaps stronger than those I have ever known, even for his young age. Stronger than even myself.

My eyes close tiredly; dark lashes fluttering against a face so pale that the moon is darker than I. My breaths are so shallow in my chest, body drained as I unravel from the inside. His fingers gripping me so tightly, letting me know that I am not alone and still, my mind returns to the memories. Those centuries that I lived, the people that I knew and loved... and lost. It flashes like reels of a grainy video, every laugh and smile and tear, every aching and lonely moment. I can't help but relive them one last time...

***


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One : September 13, 1999**

"Vincent!"

I heard my name called along with the sounds of hurried footsteps on the cobbled and beaten path behind me. I stopped, half turning to regard the person with a curious stare. To my surprise, it was no other than Cait Sith, pouncing towards me as quickly as it could on its four legs. The toysaurus was truly an interesting work of engineering. Reeve was a brilliant man.

I awaited the animatron's arrival patiently, not at all bothered by the darkness of the alley around me or the light rain that was falling down on my head. After all, the battle was won. Cloud had found his redemption, Sephiroth defeated for yet another time and Gaia was at peace. What more could an ex-Turk like myself ask for?

"Where is ya heading?" questioned the toysaurus as it skidded to a halt at my feet, its face scrunched up in an inquisitive manner as its tail wagged behind it. The detail involved in Cait Sith never ceased to surprise me.

I inclined my head slightly, turning my gaze away from the toy to look towards the mouth of the alley where the cold, grayish daylight peeked into the dismal passageway. This particular corridor headed out of Edge. I didn't exactly have a destination in mind. It wasn't as if I had a home to return to. I only knew that with the battle over and done with, it was time for me to be on my way. No use in sticking around.

My mouth pulled into a frown unconsciously. "As of yet, I have not decided on a destination." I returned my crimson gaze to the cat creature. In turn, Cait Sith cocked its head to the side as if carefully considering its next words.

It tapped one gloved finger – imagine, gloves on a toy – against its furry chin. "So come with me, eh?" it suggested, a curious gleam in its feline gaze.

I quickly shook my head. "No."

The animatron cocked its own to the side, tapping one foot against the ground as if impatient with me despite the fact it had sought me out itself. "How no?"

"..." Inwardly, I sighed, eager to get away despite the fact I had no other plans. For me, nothing had yet been solved. There was still the aching of failure and the desire for redemption. I was unable to save her and in the end, she suffered greatly. For that, I am very much a coward. To not save the woman I love, what kind of monster did that make me?

Cait Sith sighed aloud at my reticence. "Have ye got any better plans?" it questioned, the tone carrying on the edge of impatience with that thick, strange accent.

I was unsure of what the former ShinRa executive wanted from me. If he wanted a hero he was better off talking to Cloud. I had sworn off ShinRa associations when I emerged from the coffin. I'd had only one purpose at the time, to destroy Hojo, and now I was purposeless. But I had no intentions of fighting anymore, not unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Reeve--"

It interrupted before I could even get a word in edgewise, tail swishing in faint irritation. "Oy, Cait is me name."

My eyebrow twitched, I was certain, as I sighed aloud. "Very well, Cait, what do you want from me?" I questioned, folding my arms over my chest as I stared down at the creature.

It broke out into a huge, fanged grin, but instead of hearing a response from the toy, a deeper, much more male voice echoed behind me. "I didn't think you'd agree so quickly."

I whirled around, not surprised to find Reeve himself standing there. His dark navy blue clothes swished across the dirty cobblestones as he approached me, smiling faintly. "I am somewhat surprised that you didn't just shoot Cait," he continued as the animatron scampered past me, moving to plop itself down at its master's feet, even going so far as to rub a furred cheek against Reeve's leg.

Cute.

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," I countered warily.

Reeve laughed as he shook his head. "No, you haven't, have you?" He reached down and patted Cait Sith's head before gesturing towards me. "Walk with me, will you? I shall do my best to explain."

I briefly considered telling him no and disappearing back into the shadows. My eyes even flickered past him to the exit. But a part of me was somewhat curious. While I had fought with Reeve in both battles, recently and two years ago, we weren't particularly close. I found the antics of the stuffed creature annoying at best so I had unconsciously kept my distance. Not to mention Reeve had been a part of ShinRa and that was enough for me to be wary.

I'd had enough of ShinRa.

But now things were different. ShinRa was more or less in ruins, and Reeve was working on some other project. Because I had kept my distance these past two years, I wasn't quite sure exactly what he was doing. Nor did I really care as it had nothing to do with me or my burdens. I really had no intention of joining any more battles.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to listen. I nodded briefly after a moment of silence.

"Good," he replied before turning on his heels, leaving me to follow. Our footsteps echoed on the cobble of the litter strewn alley as a companionable quiet fell between us. Even Cait Sith was silent as it pitter-pattered beside its master. I patiently waited for Reeve to begin talking.

He cleared his throat, finally. "If you don't mind my asking, where have you been these past two years?"

"Nowhere in particular."

"Ah." He paused, appearing to consider his words. Inwardly, I sighed and idly tapped my gun, just to make sure it was still there. A habit of mine I had developed since leaving the coffin.

"Then you wouldn't know anything about the current state of political affairs on Gaia?"

I frowned as I crossed my arms over my chest, the talons of my claw clicking lightly against my arm. "I didn't particularly care but I am aware of most of ShinRa's doings."

"I see." He fell silent and gradually, I began to grow irritated. Reeve was a man who could easily fool others. He came off as a push over and slightly oddball thanks to Cait Sith, but he was far from it.

Reeve Tuesti was just as calculating and brilliant as Rufus ShinRa, though remarkably less homicidal. It did appear, however, that Rufus was curbing some of his more manic tendencies at least. Either way, Reeve was not a man to be taken lightly. Not many could cross ShinRa and come out alive, as he had done. And I was certain he wanted something from me, I just wasn't sure what.

Aggravated by his slow method of getting to the point, I deigned to prompt him. An annoyed, gusty sigh escaped my lips. "Tuesti, cut the crap and tell me what you want."

He chuckled lightly. "I really don't think you'll ever change, Vincent." I shot him a look and he shook his head before continuing. "I started something called the WRO, the World Regenesis Organization. We are dedicated to rebuilding the world and protecting it, as well as the planet."

I nodded slowly as I listened. "I still fail to see why you need my help."

"I could use someone of your skills," Reeve explained, gesturing faintly. "Think of it as a job. Like the Turks but without the murder and terrorism."

I frowned, considering. "Basically, you want a bodyguard." It wasn't something I was particularly fond of doing but since I really didn't have any other plans, I couldn't think of a good way to say no. I was sure Reeve would have preferred Cloud but with his 'family', he would be too busy for such a time-intensive occupation.

"Yes and no," Reeve countered, interrupting my thoughts. "I admit a small fear for my safety but mostly, I want someone I can trust. My forces are still rather slim though I am recruiting more and more with each day."

We emerged from the dark alley into a small side street where a car was idling, guarded by two men with guns. Obviously, judging by his ease, these belonged to Reeve. Likely, it was his transport. Must be nice to be the big man on campus once again. You could take the man out of ShinRa but not take ShinRa out of the man, it seemed.

I wasn't impressed. Nor did I want to agree with Reeve's proposal, at least until I had time to consider. Reeve, shrewd businessman that he was, seemed to know exactly what was on my mind. And here I thought I was mysterious and unreadable. There goes my reputation.

"Look Vincent, I know you don't like to get involved," Reeve said as we drew to a halt beside the overly armored vehicle. I could feel the eyes of his guards bearing down on me and I coolly returned their suspicious gazes, knowing the effect my blood-red eyes would have on them.

They might have been my natural coloration but combined with the rest of my appearance, they were quite frightening. I used to despise the scared and wary glances that people gave me when I entered a town. Now, I used them to my advantage to maintain my solitary life. It was better that way, and perhaps a bit easier.

Reeve's hand clamped down on my shoulder, causing me to draw away on instinct and gather my strayed attention. He seemed to get the hint and dropped the touch. A part of me, human and craving some sort of contact, regretted the loss.

"All I hope is that you think about it," the executive said, face unusually solemn.

"We could really use your help!" Cait Sith chirped, grinning and waving up at me from the ground.

I resisted the urge to grimace. Shifting my weight, I regarded Reeve from within my high collar. "Tuesti--"

"Ah, Reeve, let the old man go," a voice announced cheerfully from within the transport. "If he wants to wallow in misery, more power to him." The door slid open and I was immediately faced with a very familiar pair of mischievous brown eyes. Internally, I groaned.

Outwardly, the only hint of my annoyance was a slight narrowing of my eyes. "Kisaragi."

She grinned, placing one hand cockily on her hip. "What? No, 'I love you' or 'Gawd, it's been awhile, Yuffie! How've ya been?'"

I ignored her and lifted one brow in Reeve's direction. He chuckled sheepishly. "Yuffie's decided to help us out," he explained, gesturing towards her. "But her duties mainly lie in espionage and intelligence."

"For free?"

"Are you kidding?" Yuffie inserted, looking somewhat affronted. She made grabbing motions with one hand. "I'm in it for the materia, baby!" Her eyes took on a greedy gleam that wasn't the least bit unusual.

Even after two years not much had changed. She still wore the same revealing outfits and had the same boisterous manner. I had hoped that time would mature her to a more tolerable personality. It seemed I would have to wait a bit longer before I could hold an intelligent conversation with Yuffie. Though a part of me believed Yuffie would never change.

Reeve, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed. He was aware of how much Yuffie irritated me. "Yuffie aside," he began, making shooing motions with his hands and deftly ignoring her pout as she disappeared within the transport, "I hope that you will consider my offer."

I could feel my eye twitch. "I will think about it," I muttered, gruffer than I had intended. Without another word, I turned on my heels with the intention of leaving. It didn't matter that I had no destination in mind.

"Vincent!"

I paused and glanced over my shoulder, my hand rising just in time to catch the object hurled at my head. I frowned, turning my eyes towards the slim rectangle of plastic, and my lips twitched with a hint of a grin. It appeared Reeve had a sense of humor after all.

"I'll call you," he shouted, saluting me as Cait Sith gave a big thumbs-up.

I tipped my head in thanks, turning away from him once more. I heard him chuckle before the door to the vehicle shut and its engine roared to life. Shaking my head, I headed away from Reeve's transport and disappeared into the darkness of the alley.

I really had no destination in mind as previously stated. Slipping the slim phone into my pocket, I considered Reeve's proposal. My feet took me towards the parked Shera of their own accord, settled on the edge of town.

I supposed of all my 'companions', Cid was one of the more tolerable. I wasn't looking to him for advice but I knew he wouldn't badger me to talk about whatever was brewing on my mind.

Luckily, Cid hadn't wanted to spend anymore time at the celebration than I did. When I arrived at the Shera, they were getting ready to depart for Rocket Town. I hitched a ride, free of charge.

Since the first Sephiroth incident, I had not settled down in any particular town. And after hearing disturbing rumors about the north, I had headed to the Forest of the Ancients. Now, I was still homeless and even worse – purposeless. As a former Turk, too much downtime disturbed me, making me restless.

"Hey Vince, how's it goin'?" Cid grunted my direction when I wandered into the bridge. He didn't look up to know it was me but I supposed I was the only person who crept around like a red and black shadow.

I grimaced but had long since tried to correct him on my name. It ceased bothering me a year ago. I paused to watch him work, wrestling with tangle of cords and wires beneath one of his consoles. Muscles ripped pleasingly beneath his t-shirt and I couldn't help a slight sigh of admiration, though it was quickly tampered. Despite the two-year lag in battle, he had lost none of his muscle mass.

Cloud was pretty but Cid was all male and I supposed that was why I found him on my list of attractive people. I readily admitted, only to myself, my bisexuality. I usually preferred women in the long run, having only discovered my attraction to the same sex as a young, experimenting trainee in ShinRa.

Men weren't made to love other men, or so I had been taught. They were used for mutual pleasure and to satisfy carnal urges, but there was no such thing as love between them. Having never been in love with another man, I couldn't really say for myself and in any case, I didn't see myself giving my heart to another. There was only room for Lucrecia.

That, however, did not stop the occasional, surreptitious look.

"You seem pretty chipper," I mildly remarked, leaning in my usual position with arms crossed.

He grunted again and one blue eye craned to look at me. "Only you would call this 'chipper'," he replied with a cut off laugh. "Shera wants ya to come fer dinner."

I sighed. "Highwind--"

"Don't give me that, _Valentine_. I kept yer damn secret, didn't I? The least ya could do is take my wife up on her offer. She worries about ya."

Cid had a point. He was the only one who knew where I was in the two years between here and now. For the sake of Tifa and Shera alone, I kept contact so that they wouldn't be overly concerned. I doubted anything could kill me, and didn't particularly care, but it was better on my conscience, I supposed. Cid was kind enough to keep my location silent, a great effort considering his mouth.

"Very well," I acquiesced as he went back to wrestling with his wires. "I suppose I have a few hours to spare."

"Tch." Cid snorted. "You ain't foolin' me." With a muffled curse, he detangled and shoved himself to his feet. Behind him, the console bleeped then went dark, prompting Cid to curse fluently. Despite myself, I found a smile curve my lips.

"You ain't got nowhere to go," Cid added distractedly, kicking the wires back underneath in a huff. "Better get Shera to look at that."

My eyebrow twitched. Just because Cid was right didn't mean that I had to accept it. But his bluntness was one of the reasons I enjoyed our friendship so I refrained from storming off in a useless huff. Instead, I changed the subject.

"How is Shera?"

Somehow, Cid managed to look both happy and disgruntled. Enough so that I had to stifle yet another uncharacteristic chuckle. "Shit, she's fine," he grumbled, raking a hand through blond hair that hadn't started thinning or graying yet.

Cid was aging well, I noticed. The smoking hadn't been helping but the excitement in his eyes always made him seem youthful. He was still in great shape and thank the gods, that horrendous jacket had disappeared from his wardrobe. He had Shera to thank for that most likely. Now, Cid was a jeans and t-shirt man. And yet, he still maintained his coarse exterior. I didn't think anyone could influence him to change that.

Unlike myself. As near as I could tell, I hadn't aged a single day since Hojo thrust me into that thrice-cursed coffin. I was fifty-nine by my count now, and looked no older than twenty-five. I didn't even know if I was capable of aging. I counted the years and birthdays as they came, but could find no evidence of their passing on my face.

I was damn near indestructible, healing wounds at a faster rate than was human. The demons, the monsters whose DNA was now blended with my own was my only explanation for it. This body was my sin, my punishment for failing the woman I loved. Hojo was dead but I was not at ease. I still owed her something. And I was determined to never fail another if it was within my power.

Romance was absolutely out of the question.

Lucrecia still held sway over most of my heart – if not all – but most importantly, I couldn't take the risk. Despite my relentless research of Midgar's ruins and Nibelheim's mansion, I still didn't know the full extent of what Hojo had done to me. The risk of a child inheriting my curse was too great. I wouldn't wish this fate on anyone, even if it condemned me to a life of loneliness.

I supposed that I could always seek comfort in the arms of another man but was disinclined to do so. It was relatively common in the all-male barracks of ShinRa training facilities but it wasn't exactly something that was discussed outside of the hushed darkness. I wouldn't even know where to begin in my search, if I were so disposed. Which at the moment, I was not.

Our conversation continued into more mundane matters until Cid left me to oversee his beloved airship. Unoffended, I took the time to lean back and consider Reeve's offer. I had to admit that a part of me was intrigued.

I didn't relish returning to random wandering. Nor did I dare think to seek my happiness. I wasn't about to join Strife's Delivery Service and hunting monsters for a living sounded terribly taxing. I didn't necessarily need the gil but I couldn't sit in idle retirement. Too much Turk in me for that.

I wondered if I could find my forgiveness like Cloud had. It certainly was a nice dream, though it didn't bring me any closer to a decision.

Hours later, I was tucked into the Highwind's warm kitchen, perched at one end of the square table and preparing to consume a rather delicious meal. Shera had greeted me warmly as always, fussing mother-like and inquiring about my health.

She was a good woman, reminding me a lot of my dear Lucrecia. I was glad Cid had finally come to his senses enough to marry her. He would have been a fool not to, especially when her love had been so evident.

"Tell me, Vincent, where have you been hiding all this time?" Shera asked pleasantly, beginning the dinner conversation. She set one last dish onto the table and slid into her seat, smiling softly.

Cid grunted ever so attractively. "Don't pester 'im, Shera. He didn't come to play twenty questions."

She ignored him with the patience of a saint and continued, "We worry about you sometimes."

I was a bit ashamed of myself for causing her concern. "No need to worry," I assured her, cutting into the pot roast with knife and fork, having long removed that awkward claw. It wasn't suitable for dining. "I wasn't anywhere in particular actually."

"Vince was hiding," Cid affirmed, ignoring my annoyed glare. If I were hiding, no one would have found me. I was merely seeking a measure of solitude.

Shera laughed quietly at our nearly silent exchange, moving the conversation forward. "What do you plan to do now?"

"To be honest, I am unsure." I shook my head and took a sip of the wine I had been offered at my decline of tea, much to Cid's disgust. "Tuesti has approached me with a job offer."

The pilot arched one brow. "Has he now?" Cid asked with a light chuckle. "Manipulate bastard's tryin' to get his paws on everyone, isn't he?"

I was pretty perceptive on any given day and Cid was usually gloriously without tact but I think a blind and deaf Gayla could have figured out that there was something in his words. I had the sneaky suspicion that like Yuffie, Reeve had hooked his claws in my closest friend. I regarded him guardedly.

"What makes you say that?" I queried warily, pretty certain that I already knew the answer.

Cid tilted his head towards the front entranceway and the coat rack. I swept my eyes past my own tattered crimson cloak and found his relatively new jacket that he had earlier untied from his waist. Gleaming metal on the collar, a pattern I suspected I would soon learn to recognize, confirmed my intuitions.

I turned back towards him and he grinned, jerking a thumb at himself. "Yer lookin' at the new Captain of the WRO air force," he said a bit sheepishly but with a hint of pride as well. "Shera works with us, too." The last was more of an afterthought I noticed with some amusement.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised. I knew Cid would eventually grow tired of transporting supplies and objects from one end of the planet to the other. He was a military man through and through. With luck, the WRO wouldn't screw him over like ShinRa did, though Rufus did appear to have turned over a new leaf. I wasn't holding my breath.

Reeve was smart. The prospect of working with Yuffie worked against him, but I enjoyed Cid's company. And Reeve wasn't too bad of company either.

I twisted my jaw in thought, remembering the phone stashed away in my pocket. "I figured that's what you were going to say."

"They aren't ShinRa," Shera explained with a warm smile. "From what I have seen, they are here to help. I'm part of a team that's currently researching alternate means of energy. We've had some success with materia."

I sighed, feeling myself gradually being persuaded. It was already on the back of my mind to say yes simply because I was bored. I enjoyed my solitude mostly because I believed that three-quarters of the world consisted of idiots. I wasn't one to dip my nose into the affairs of others either, content to leave things well enough alone. If not for Cloud and company, I might have kept to myself for the rest of my life, however long it would be.

But a part of me wanted to think that it wouldn't be so bad.

"Did Reeve put you up to this?" I asked, failing to hide the suspicion in my voice.

Cid shook his head, heartily returning to the food Shera had prepared. "Nah, I just thought you might be interested. Despite tryin' to be a cold bastard, you're not. Maybe ya might even think about lettin' the past go, huh?"

As if it were that simple. I wasn't clinging quite so tenaciously but memories of Lucrecia's laughter still held me back. My heart was aching and that wasn't something easily foregone. He meant well, Cid did, and I knew he wouldn't push, but I just wasn't ready for that sort of thing.

"I will think about it," I responded noncommittally before gesturing to the food on our plates. "We should enjoy what Shera has cooked for us."

And just like that, the conversation returned to safer topics which I was much obliged for. I sat in silence as the two conversed, discussing something to do with metal-working, electronics, and the workings of devices I knew nothing about. Every once in a while, they drew me into their topic but for the most part, I was locked up in my thoughts.

Even later, sitting in the guest room that had pretty much been designated as reserved for me, I ruminated over my decision. I did not brood; that was for lesser men. I contemplated and I considered, lying back on my bed and staring up at the ceiling, idly rubbing scar lotion onto my left hand.

If I did plan to respond in the negative to Reeve, then what would I do afterwards, I wondered. Impose on Cid's hospitality for the rest of my existence? Return to the ceaseless wandering? None of it sounded too attractive. Besides, if I wanted to, I could at any moment walk away from Reeve and the WRO. It wasn't as if my choice would be permanent.

In the end, I couldn't explain why I decided to take the path I had chosen. Maybe I was lonely on some level; maybe I really was seeking closure. Perhaps I just wanted to be of use to someone again. I couldn't honestly say.

The next morning, before either Shera or Cid - both early risers – could even awaken, I bit the bullet and picked up the phone. Reeve, the cocky bastard, had his number programmed into speed dial on the one position. I hesitated for all of a moment, recalling Yuffie's exuberance and the fact that a company supposedly for the good of people had screwed me over once before.

Then I remembered that it was my hesitance that had killed Lucrecia and locked me in torment for thirty years. Perhaps it was finally time I stopped trying to rationalize everything.

I hit the button.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chronicles of Valentine: Chapter Two**

**\---September 13, 2000---**

Reeve sat back in his chair and perused the documents I had appropriated for him, his brow lifting in pleasant surprise. "Now, this is interesting," he murmured, flickering his gaze at me sitting in the chair across from him before returning to the papers.

"I wouldn't know," I responded, idly running well-trained hands over one of my guns. A bullet had jammed earlier, forcing me to switch to the Death Penalty despite my intention of only relying on the smaller handguns. I wanted it fixed before I was sent out again.

The head of the WRO chuckled and shook his head, lying the papers down on his desk. "You really don't look at them, do you?"

I didn't bother to answer. I didn't ask what Reeve wanted those things for. Why he had asked me to retrieve some documents from the ShinRa mansion was beyond my understanding but it wasn't up to me to question. He had reassured me on more than one occasion that nothing as cruel as human experimentation was going on in the WRO's research division, even going so far as to introduce me to Shalua Rui, one of the scientists. I supposed Reeve didn't want to risk losing my aid on account of my hatred for laboratories and all things associated.

"No," he agreed, answering for himself. "You wouldn't." He watched me for a minute, eyes uncomfortably penetrative as I had been noticing with more frequency lately.

I couldn't tell what he wanted from me, if he was simply dying to ask the same questions as everyone else or if there was something else. Reeve was far too adept at hiding his real intentions. I supposed it came from having to hide the fact he was sympathetic to the poor rather than trying to extort more from them like his prior associates.

In the past year since I had been working with Reeve and the WRO, I had come to accept that they really were trying to help the people. Just a few months ago, Shera and her research team had stumbled upon a breakthrough in using materia to power the world. Using fully-matured materia, a small dose of applied ether, and a derived machine similar to the barrier generator in Cid's airship, they were even able to make it affordable.

During the times when I wasn't guarding Reeve, that had been my duty for the most part. Taking the materia out into the field and working to mature it for electricity uses. I didn't even need to ask why they wouldn't let Yuffie do it. It wasn't unlike monster hunting in a way. I preferred the bodyguarding.

What was perhaps the most surprising of the pretty mundane turn my life had taken was the slowly built friendship between Reeve and myself. He didn't try to turn his charity, fix-everything bullshit on me like I half-expected him to, and he was intelligent. Which only furthered my theory that Cait Sith was just a cover for people to underestimate him. I was grudgingly building respect for him, and perhaps even admiration.

This was a man who had spent the last ten years or so of his life in ShinRa's grasp and still somehow managed to keep a hold onto his own morals. There weren't many who could claim that. And not only that, but he had survived as well, relatively intact.

I supposed it was easier for me to grow close to Reeve considering that of my companions, Cloud and company, he was the nearest to myself in age. I didn't count Barret because while we had fought together, I didn't think that man would ever completely trust me. Not to mention I was certain he was an idiot. Reeve, on the other hand, wouldn't surprise me if his test scores proved to be genius level. There was a certain level of knowledge beneath the surface that he didn't really show everyone.

I was certain of it.

Reeve rearranged the papers on his desk with a definite shuffling noise, most likely an attempt to garner my attention. I lifted my gaze from my gun to his as he leaned back in his seat, putting on his conversational face. Which meant that business was over.

"How have you been?"

A valid question considering the last time I actually spoke to him face to face was a few weeks ago. I had received this last order by cell phone messaging.

I shifted my gaze to the side, hands restlessly running over the weapon in my lap. "I am alive," I answered vaguely.

How was I supposed to respond? I wasn't going to talk about the nightmares or the lingering thoughts. Reeve was my friend but I wasn't about to turn him into my psychologist. There were some pains that it was better for a man to keep to himself. Contrary to popular opinion, we didn't all need to talk out our ills. I would solve them on my own.

He seemed amused by my answer. Shaking his head, he continued, "You know, Cloud and Tifa had their first child last week."

I hadn't even known the busty brunette was pregnant though I was aware that the two had gotten married not long after the battle against the remnants. Knowing Cloud the whole affair was kind of suspicious to me but who was I to judge?

"Oh?" I said, genuinely interested. It was nice to know that while my life had seemingly stagnated, everyone else was going on their merry way. Then again, considering that I was going to live forever, or at least it seemed that way, what was the point of doing anything?

"A daughter," he explained with a note of fondness to his tone. Perhaps even a bit of jealousy. "Tifa was ecstatic."

Notice the lack of comment on Cloud's reaction. He was probably just so goddamned relieved that Hojo's experimentation hadn't screwed up his chances at having a normal family. I, however, wasn't willing to take the chances. And no way in hell was I going to let any scientist come near me with the desire to find out. I'd rather dwell in my ignorance.

It made me wonder why Reeve hadn't started a family of his own. He certainly seemed like the type of man to want that sort of thing, despite his crazy work-ethic that kept him in the office way after closing time. As far as I knew, he wasn't married, his family was dead. He was actually pretty alone in the world. It didn't seem… right, for lack of a better word.

It truly was a pity; Reeve was an attractive man. Not to mention intelligent, considering all that he had designed. If he had given me the slightest inkling he were anything but straight I might have actually made a pass on him.

"I'm sure she was," I commented, replying only because it had been a while since I had spoken and I didn't want Reeve to ask concerned questions when there was nothing wrong with me.

Luckily, the phone chose that moment to ring, a loud noise in the calm quiet of Reeve's office. He started a bit, eyes darting to the device before he sighed and finally reached for the receiver.

"Tuesti," he answered crisply, looking mildly perturbed. His eyes widened slightly when he realized whom was on the other end though I couldn't tell the identity. "Of course I am surprised. It isn't often you do me the honor of calling."

It sounded like business. And since I was done with my task, I thought it was my cue to leave. I rose to my feet, situating the Death Penalty back in its holster but before I could even turn towards the door Reeve started gesturing at me, prompting me to pause mid-move. It appeared he wasn't quite done.

"I had heard but I didn't think it anything to worry about," Reeve was saying into the phone before he covered the receiver with one palm and looked up at me. "Wait a minute, please. I have another assignment for you."

My interest piqued, I tipped my head in his direction and promptly returned to my seat, settling easily into my chair. I made no attempt to hide the fact that I was listening to Reeve's conversation, the Turk in me still remembering that all information was good information, even if I didn't understand it at first. One never knew when it came into use.

"No, I don't think that's necessary," Reeve was saying, his forehead furrowing either in annoyance or anger, I couldn't tell which. He tapped one finger on his desktop as he listened to the voice on the other end.

Obviously there was an argument or discussion of some type.

"Valentine is more than enough."

There was a pause. My ears perked at this. My own name being mentioned was something that I took great interest in. What, exactly, did Reeve had planned for me? If it was another fetch mission I was going to be quite annoyed. I wasn't a delivery service. He should call Cloud if he wanted that.

Reeve snorted into the phone. "I trust Vincent with my life, which is more than I can say for any one of your Turks."

My brow rose to my hairlines. Turks. He was probably talking to Rufus then. There was no one else that nearly defunct team served. Even with ShinRa little more than a conglomeration barely strung together, the Turks had not abandoned Rufus. That was some loyalty. Then again, that was what had always banded the Turks as a cohesive unit. Loyalty to one another first and foremost. Like a family almost.

"This is not a discussion," Reeve stated curtly, his voice carrying heavy finality. "If I see a single ShinRa-issued Turk boot on the grounds, I'm sending them away." Without so much as a goodbye, he promptly returned the phone to the cradle, somehow managing not to slam it down like I could tell he wanted to.

He sighed and glared at the phone before realizing that I was staring at him with an obvious question in my face. "Believe it or not, that was Rufus."

I had already figured that out but it was nice to have the confirmation.

"I hadn't realized that you were so friendly," I commented carefully, not wanting to admit I knew less about the situation considering I had been working with Reeve for a year and had no inkling of such a thing.

"We're not," Reeve admitted as he rubbed his forehead, likely trying to quell a rising migraine. I recognized the motion well. "He's merely trying to protect his investment."

His investment? I was confused. What would Rufus have to do with Reeve who had cut all ties with ShinRa? Then it hit me. Reeve wasn't growing gil trees in his backyard. The money had to be coming from somewhere. He had explained that it was multiple investors but I never even suspected that ShinRa itself would contribute.

"Rufus is the mysterious donor?" I demanded, barely able to hold back the stunned look from my face.

Reeve nodded, looking surprisingly weary. He worked himself too hard, I had noticed. Then again, he had no one to rush home to, so why would he bother with anything else.

"I suppose in some way he is attempting to make up for his family's mistakes." Reeve paused, tilting his head to the side as he cut his eyes at the view from his window. "Or at least, he thinks he is."

I snorted, disdain filling me to the core. "There isn't enough he could do," I commented bitterly, recalling my own ills that had been caused by ShinRa.

"No, I don't believe there is," Reeve agreed solemnly before sighing heavily. "In any case, it appears that the threats are coming in more frequently now. It has Rufus... concerned."

"Threats?" This was news to me, especially since this was the kind of thing Reeve was supposed to be telling me. Then again, knowing him, he preferred to try to handle things on his own before asking for help.

He inclined his head. "Yes, someone or some group still has it out for ShinRa and by proxy, myself for some reason. Whether or not they are trying to draw Rufus out or they actually are after me, I cannot say." He paused, lips pulling into a deep frown. "The fact remains that I can't watch my own back and I refuse to allow Reno or Rude to do it for me. They may be somewhat capable but they are loyal to Rufus, not I."

I could see where the conversation was going but that didn't mean I was going to make it easier on the WRO President. Sometimes, it was amusing just to watch him squirm. "A wise decision."

Reeve's even stare moved to me, a bemused smile removing the frown. "You're actually going to make me ask, aren't you?"

It was all I could do to hold back the smirk. "Ask what?" I questioned innocently, idly fiddling the safety of my gun, flicking it on and off.

He shook his head. "Your humor chooses the most aggravating moments to make an appearance," he replied with a heavy sigh, though he didn't sound that aggravated. "Very well, are you up to the task?"

I holstered my weapon. "Of course."

Reeve shot me an exasperated look. "Was that absolutely necessary?"

I shrugged, entirely nonchalant. "I was going to say yes. I'm tired of leveling materia. There are only so many times you can destroy the same monster before it gets monotonous."

"Or perhaps you just miss my company," he teased, amber eyes glinting.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Don't push your luck."

I felt his gaze on me steadily for a moment, a weird feeling emanating from him before he cleared his throat and relaxed in his chair. "You won't have to be around every moment," he began, diving into the details of the mission. "I'm sure I can rely on a thin guard at home and such. But in public events, whenever I'm in the public eye, I'll need you."

I inclined my head. "Fair enough."

He looked at the clock and then his paperwork, a pile that I swore never seemed to decrease. "Good then," he said, taking in a deep breath and glancing down at his calender, a large pad taped to his desk. "Sunday the 24th. The fund raiser starts at eight but you'll probably want to be here sooner." Reeve smirked. "Try to blend in."

"In other words, get rid of my bright red cloak," I countered with a raised brow.

He smiled. "In other words."

Despite myself, I felt my own lips twitch in an attempt to form a smile. It was getting increasingly easier to relax my defenses around the WRO President. He was quickly becoming another Cid to me, a trustworthy confidante that didn't pry unnecessarily.

"You do own other attire?" Reeve added and for a moment, I received the faintest impression that he was flirting with me. Or maybe it had simply been too long since I had gotten laid. I couldn't be sure.

"Of course," I responded, keeping my tone light.

I did own other clothing, I just didn't wear it. Why bother when it was probably going to get covered in blood or dust or monster guts? And it wasn't as if I had anywhere to go for that matter. All of my companions were used to seeing me in this outfit. It made things simpler. But Reeve was right. It was better to look as if he wasn't under intense guard. It might draw out whoever was threatening him and make it easier to catch them.

"Good." He reached for some papers, idly reshuffling them on his desk and looking as if he wanted to say something further. I gave him a minute but instead of spitting it out, he frowned to himself and lifted his eyes back to me. "That's it then, I suppose. If anything else comes up, I'll call you."

I had half a mind to ask him just what else was on his mind _now_ , but I refrained. Obviously, he didn't feel like sharing and I had never been one to pry. No one came to me for their problems anyways. Who would want to ask the broody vampire advice about anything?

I rose to my feet. "Then I'll make sure to keep my phone charged."

"Please do."

I watched him another minute before finally turning and slipping through the web of chairs and tables that seemed to serve no other purpose than decoration in his office, I headed for the door.

"And Vincent?"

It figured he would choose to speak right before I put my hand on the knob. I shot him a glance over my shoulder.

He still had that look on his face, as if he wanted to say something. He seemed to be arguing with himself internally before he finally blurted out, "Be careful. R&D tells me that some of Hojo's monsters are spawning exponentially."

He knew better than needing to tell me to be careful. I doubted there was anything out there strong enough to kill me. I inclined my head.

"I'll keep that in mind."

And then I was out the door, knowing full well that wasn't what he had intended to say. I wondered what secret he was hiding from me. I assumed I would figure it out eventually. Despite his craftiness, Reeve wasn't too skilled at subterfuge. It would slip eventually.

All I had to do was wait.

**\---September 24, 2000---**

I surreptitiously tugged at the collar of my shirt. I hated wearing suits, especially the current black one that was eerily similar to Turk attire. I had left behind my cloak and claw, needing to blend in rather than stand out. I brought with me four guns, though only one was visible to anyone who was looking for a weapon. It all reminded me once again why I hated these functions. I understood the necessity of the affair, but still despised them. Reeve's fundraiser for the WRO was an important part of my paycheck, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

I cast bored crimson eyes over the patrons who had found the time to wine and dine in their opulence, despite the state of half the world. It was always nice to see that the wealthy were doing so well for themselves. At least they were willing to part with a meager sum of their fortune to help in the rebuilding. They weren't completely useless.

More importantly, in my casual sweep, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. No sign of violence, no sign of someone who looked murderous or blasted a killing intent in Reeve's direction. Che, most of the attendants looked as if they would shriek at the mere sight of a naked blade or the flash of a gun.

I glanced at the clock and sighed under my breath. Only two more hours of this nonsense and I could return home, if the hotel room I had rented out for the evening counted as home. I supposed, considering that I was going to be living for a long time, I ought to invest in a house or at least someplace permanent.

I had been flitting from town to town, staying with Highwind some times, but mostly camping out or rooming in hotels for longer durations. There was no sense of permanence in me at the moment and I couldn't figure out why. Something within kept me roaming, as if I were searching for something I didn't even realize I was looking for.

Familiar laughter floated to my ears and I shifted my gaze back to Reeve who was surrounded by four to five men and woman, a glass of champagne in one hand and a charming grin on his face. This type of function was his element. Reeve truly knew how to play socialities, despite the fact that I knew he would rather be at home, perched in a chair and reading some book.

Per my orders, I kept a careful eye on Reeve and tried not to get bored to tears. Not but ten minutes later, right as the clock struck nine, an aide came up to Reeve and whispered in his ear. I recognized his face from the sheet of worker identities that Reeve had given me earlier so I relaxed and continued to observe.

The WRO President nodded and excused himself from his conversation, threading his way through the crowd to the stage. It was here that I was carefully positioned, standing just to the right of the podium and upon the dais. At an unknown cue, the band which had been playing a soothing yet mind-numbing classical ballad, ceased and the low murmur of conversation was the only noise to pierce the room. It, too, came to a halt as Reeve and said attendant approached the podium.

It was time for the speech.

I shifted position slightly, angling my body for a better panoramic view of the room and tried to tune out the words I had heard twice before. Reeve, for a reason beyond my understanding, worried himself to death about every speech he made and practiced consistently. I had heard, without intending, two such sessions and could recite about half of it myself.

The attendant listed Reeve's qualifications before introducing him with a round of applause from an audience. Another cue had the lights dimming and spot lights centered straight on Reeve, making it difficult to see out into the crowd. Instantly, my hackles rose and I straightened, body preparing for any thing which could be construed as dangerous. On the edge of my conscious, I heard Reeve clear his throat and start his speech with a joke before delving into his carefully crafted pleadings for funding.

Something was off though I couldn't place just what. I flickered my eyes to the other guards, most just grunt soldiers for the WRO. None of them seemed concerned, a few even exchanging quiet words and laughter in one corner. Feh, Reeve really needed to work on their discipline.

A sudden flash of something in the crowd caught my eye and I instantly locked on the item, but it was only the glint of light from the corner of a woman's eyeglasses. Curse the lighting. It was far too shading for my comfort. That feeling of unease began to grow, gurgling beneath the surface and making my hair stand on end.

I lifted my eyes to the balcony and that was when I saw them, two men in perfect triangulated positions almost hidden by the billowy curtains of the high balcony. It took only a second for me to register that they held long-range rifles and were already poised to fire. These were professionals, and whoever wanted Reeve dead, was taking no chances.

In a flash, I had drawn the Winchester, firing at one before diving at Reeve to the astonishment of every other person in the room. The sound of my gunshot was resoundingly loud, completely overpowering the silenced bullet from the second gunman.

I collided into Reeve with a loud oomph, the both of us crashing to the ground mere milliseconds before the other bullet zoomed over our heads. It slammed full force into the wall behind us, sending splintery cracks in all directions. It would have blown him apart if it hit him. This was far from a joke.

Time seemed to still before all of the sudden there was screaming and gunfire and the sound of people stampeding away in a mob of fear. I scrambled into a crouch, grabbing Reeve and pulling him against me into the safety behind the podium. Wood splintered above us, showering down, as he coughed from the rather rough tumble I had forced him into.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking up at me with worried eyes.

I shook my head. "Assassins as you feared, Tuesti. Nothing I can't handle."

No sooner had the words left my mouth then I heard the sound of a missile, a _missile_ , heading our direction. I had only a moment to grab Reeve's collar and throw him off to the side and leap after him before the podium shattered into bits. I landed on top of Reeve, protecting him and grunted when shards of wood exploded in all directions. A few struck me dead on, piercing the skin. They hurt like a bitch but it wasn't anything I couldn't live through.

I began to wonder if they were only after Reeve's life or if creating chaos was another aspect of the task they had been hired for.

I didn't even wait for the dust to clear before I grabbed Reeve and dragged him out of the harsh glare of the lights, raising my other hand which miraculously held the gun and quickly shooting out the large spot lights. A darkness fell in the large conference room, now dimly lit by only the emergency globes.

I pulled Reeve behind a small partition in the stage and shoved him behind me before leaning against the wall and peering out into where the audience had once been, trying to spot the assassins. There had to have been more than the two I had seen.

I could hear the other soldiers shouting as they tried to find the enemy and some gunfire in the distance. Suddenly, the wood splintered near my head and I returned fire blindly before ducking back behind the wall. I quickly popped open the Winchester, shaking out the few unexpended bullets and shoving in a brand new casing. With that finished, I groped for another gun, this time wanting something with a bit more firepower.

"Vincent, you're bleeding," Reeve said, his voice lacking even the slightest hint of fear. Of course, he had faced down Sephiroth with us, though not in his own body. He had stood against ShinRa. Someone after his life wasn't anything new.

I frowned, having barely noticed the pain. I glanced down and saw that a good bit of wood was piercing my side. Without a second thought, I reached and yanked out the stick, tossing it to the side.

"It will heal," I responded curtly, my thoughts already on trying to figure out how to get Reeve out alive and uninjured. A protect would only soften the attack, not completely prevent it. There was always the back entrance, but it was on the other side of the stage.

I inched to the edge of the wall and peered out again. My eyes could see nothing, despite the fact that I had much better sight in the darkness than most humans. I wondered if the assassins were prepared enough to bring night-vision goggles with them. I wondered who would want Reeve dead that badly. A flicker across my senses was all the warning I needed before I ducked back behind the wall, avoiding a spray of bullets.

They were stronger this time, meaning that the assassins were approaching. They had taken out the WRO grunts already. Professionals. If I didn't know better, I would say they were Turks, though Turks have a more dignified way of committing murder. Get in, get out, silent as a shadow. These were more like 'blow everything up in sight and the target at the same time so long as there is death in the end'.

I felt a tentative touch brush my side and turned with surprise to find Reeve's fingers brushing over the wound that was slowly sealing itself, though blood still seeped in a small rivulet from the deep injury. He looked up at me, his amber eyes dark as coal in the darkness of the back stage. He was bleeding too, I noticed. Something had nicked him across the forehead in a shallow cut that bled freely but was plenty survivable.

"If you weren't you, this would have killed you," he said.

I frowned, my brow furrowing. Reeve was acting rather strangely. "I hardly see how that's relevant," I responded shortly, wondering why all of the sudden, he was standing that close.

"I think perhaps that I am just a bit too much of a coward," Reeve mumbled in return, dropping his hand from my side where it dangled at his own.

On the edge of my hearing, I detected footsteps approaching. Dammit, of all times for Reeve to go through self-enlightenment. Wasn't he the least bit concerned about his own life? Or those of us hired to protect it?

I sighed, lowering my voice so that I wouldn't give away my position. "Tuesti, save the wondering for later and be quiet," I demanded with more than a hint of reproach.

"I think I've been quiet long enough," he murmured and before I could even question that statement, he closed the strangely short distance between us and pressed his lips to mine, a somewhat clumsy and off-balance kiss.

Needless to say, I was shocked and surprised and any other word that explains how 'what the hell?' I was feeling. The kiss was uncertain and desperate, one of his hands gripping at my cloak with an urgency that practically radiated from his body. Perhaps I hadn't imagined that earlier flirting after all.

I wanted to question him on it then and there but the situation was against me. I had enough time to pull away from the softness of his mouth before I was ducking out from behind the wall and aiming both of my guns, firing with deadly accuracy. I detected the sound of a shout of pain and one body crumpling. I was already rolling to my feet, aiming again for the others I knew were out there.

Somewhere a bullet whizzed by my head, shearing off a lock of hair. I fired back in its general trajectory and struck something, hearing the sound of blood splattering wetly to the ground.

"Bastard," came the low growl of anger.

My eyes scanned the dark, looking for more forms. I heard shouting in the distance, the noise of fists beating on closed and/or locked doors. Reinforcements had arrived. Something cracked in the darkness, likely a person stepping on a broken piece of wood. It could only be foe, or so my instincts told me. I fired another round in that direction and was awarded with a choked off cry of pain.

Pfft. Amateurs.

There was a buzz and a hum and then light flooded the entire room, nearly blinding me. I blinked stupidly in the brightness, squinting as I tried to scan the entire area in a millisecond. Luckily, I was the only one I could see still standing, no other enemies in sight ready to take me down. Or Reeve for that matter.

A crash and a roar two seconds later and soldiers came pouring in from the lobby, armed and ready for an action that had already passed.

I sighed and rose to my feet, returning both guns to their holsters, one at the hip and the other at my back. I also had a smaller handgun tucked into one boot and a fourth gun at my side. I counted somewhere around a dozen bodies strewn across the floor, only ten of them wearing the WRO uniform. Which meant some of the assassins had been in disguise.

Lovely.

A disgusted sound escaped my throat before I could stop it and I turned to see to Reeve who was already peering out from behind the wall. His eyes hardened at all of the corpses he saw strewn around but he quickly regained his sense of dignity and stood straight. I gave him a motion to let him know it was safe and he quickly moved to my side, staring everywhere but at me.

"Tuesti, sir!" One of the soldiers approached with a tight salute. "It appears there were five of them, two within our own ranks."

Reeve nodded in understanding as another approached, already reaching for the wound on his forehead. "And the guests?"

"None were injured."

"Is there any clue as to who sent the assassins?"

The first soldier shook his head. "No, sir. We'll continue clean up and search for clues."

"You do that." I watched as he turned to the other soldier, who I belatedly realized was actually a woman and took the small cloth bandage from her hand. "Thank you, Private. I can handle it from here."

"Yes, sir."

Both WRO guards saluted and walked away, leaving he and I alone. With the preliminaries taken care of, I shot Reeve a look letting him know that I had some questions. One did not get kissed in the middle of a life or death situation without wondering why it happened in the first place. He flushed but nodded in understanding.

"Follow me," he said, moving to the side of the stage and stepping down the small three-step stairs. "There's a smaller conference room over here."

Another WRO operative approached him but he simply held up a hand. "In a moment, soldier. Make sure that there is a full sweep of the area and I'll tend to the guests shortly." His eyes flickered to mine as he stopped at a door, pushing it open and gesturing within. "In here, Vincent."

I barely heard the guard give a reply or notice his salute as I slipped inside, flicking on the light switch as I did so. To my relief, it was a relatively small room, large enough for only a round table and six chairs as well as a podium, projector, and screen. It appeared to be in disuse for quite some time. If I wasn't mistaken, the calendar declared 1985.

The door behind me clicked shut and I turned to face Reeve who was staring determinedly down at the horrid pale-yellow carpet. "I suppose you would like an explanation?"

"That would be nice," I responded, watching him carefully.

One hand pressed the cloth to the wound on his forehead which was slowly beginning to clot. He sighed. "I'm sorry."

I didn't buy that for one minute. If he was sorry, he wouldn't have bothered doing it in the first place. "No, you're not."

"Well, I am if it means that I lose a friendship that is very important to me." He conceded my point with a nod of his head and looked up, only to set his gaze somewhere past my left shoulder. "I don't even know if..." he trailed off, at a loss for how to express himself.

I knew what he was trying to say. "... if I'm a homosexual?" I finished for him, a trace of humor finding its way into my tone.

Surprisingly, a flush of red flitted across Reeve's cheeks but he managed to keep his composure as he finally dragged his eyes to mine. "Yes, that."

Considering his roundabout way of approaching things, I wasn't answering anything until I received some answers myself. "Are you?" I countered.

He coughed slightly and abruptly cleared his throat. "I don't really know." Reeve paused, shifting somewhat where he stood just in front of the door. "But I do know that I am tired of empty nights and cold beds."

It made me think that I had been anyone else, the outcome would have been the same. Reeve was lonely and I was the nearest person. It wasn't ideal but what was in this world? And maybe, in a way, I felt some of that same loneliness. Sometimes the silence was too loud, and the bed too cold no matter what blankets were wrapped or what fire raged. When all I could hear was the beat of my own heart or the crickets outside my tent, I really felt that emptiness. I imagined the ticking of the clock or the whirring of the street lamp was much the same feeling for him.

"I apologize if I was out of line," Reeve kept saying, drawing back my attention. But I was hardly listening to him.

I stepped nearer as he shifted his eyes back to the floor, Turk quiet so that he couldn't hear my approach. Reeve fell silent.

"Tuesti."

He lifted his head and that was when I kissed him, pressing my lips gently against his. Reeve froze in shock, his body visibly stiffening. I lifted my hand, resting it on the back of his neck and cupping his face as I deepened the kiss. I took advantage of his gasp of surprise to slide my tongue into his mouth, tasting champagne and the grapes he had been snacking on before the speech.

I was testing him, wanting to see if he was truly serious about this, about being with other men. I had to know if it was something that actually aroused him or if he was just desperate. And I admit that there was a part of me that wanted a better taste than the brief kiss he had stolen from me earlier. Even if nothing further came from it.

It didn't take Reeve long to overcome his shock and he gradually began to respond to the kiss, tentative then growing in determination. It was often different, two men kissing. There's a sense of wills, a battle of dominance. A man used to only kissing women would be used to the taking, and when faced with the give and take, the sometimes subservience of kissing another man, oftentimes it was shocking. He seemed to be doing just fine.

From the corner of my eyes, I noticed one of his hands twitch. He lifted it as if to touch me, then promptly dropped it again, clenching his fingers into fists. It was obvious he'd never even kissed a man before.

My curiosity was satisfied. I broke off the kiss with a parting yet gentle nip to his bottom lip. I looked at him, his eyes slightly wide and glazed as he panted faintly.

"This is what you want?" I asked him, wanting verbal confirmation now as I curled my fingers slightly in the shorter strands of hair at the base of his neck. I felt him shiver at the touch, unconsciously leaning into my hand.

Instead of verbally responding, Reeve kissed me again, rising up a little to meet my greater height. He was more aggressive this time, sliding his tongue along mine and fighting to get some control of his own. A little moan resounded in his throat, something hungry and wanting.

It was all the answer I needed.

I didn't know how further he would have taken it then, nor did I get the chance to find out. His phone rang loudly, disturbing the silence and I broke off the kiss to glare at his pocket. Reeve looked just as annoyed as he dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out the PHS, flipping it open curtly.

"Tuesti, here." He paused, waiting for the other to speak. "I am perfectly fine, Rufus," he answered through gritted teeth. Reeve rubbed a hand over his forehead, giving me an exasperated look that I understood perfectly.

He turned away to carry his conversation in private. I attempted not to listen which wasn't hard since I wasn't interested in the slightest. But after ten minutes, my patience was beginning to wane. The talk dragged on and I decided it was time for me to leave.

There was still the clean-up to consider and had any of the assassins survived, I wanted to question them. Not to mention I was certain I could find clues that the under trained guards could not. I still had a job to do after all. I turned and he must have heard me because he whirled back around, covering the mouthpiece.

"Where are you going?"

I could plainly hear Rufus' voice though I couldn't make out the words. "Do you need me for anything else?" I asked and cocked a brow.

He looked confused for a second, which was actually rather cute. "Hold on a second, Rufus," Reeve snapped into the phone and returned his attention to me. "You're not leaving are you?"

"If you mean the WRO then no, if you mean the room, then yes," I replied, my humor returning. I knew what he was trying to say and I couldn't help but smirk. "Don't worry, Tuesti. I'm fully interested in continuing this... liaison."

He colored slightly and I curled my lips in faint bemusement. Imagine, a man his age embarrassed. It was quite amusing.

Reeve watched for all of a moment before he smiled slightly, still pointedly ignoring the voice on the phone. "I would hope that you would call me Reeve now."

I inclined my head. "Perhaps," I agreed before turning on my heels and leaving, half-wishing that I had my cloak to swirl dramatically. I was itching to change out of my outfit, unwilling to linger anymore in Turk memories.

Behind me, Reeve returned to his conversation with the president of the nearly defunct ShinRa.

All in all, it hadn't been a bad day and certainly not as terrible as I had imagined. Thoughts of peeling away Reeve's business suits began to fill my mind. For such an executive, he kept in perfect shape, the prime of his life. While the stress certainly was a factor, he was fit. And best of all, I could appreciate his intelligence.

Yes, this was a relationship I was interested in pursuing. I couldn't help but wonder when the next time I could get him alone would be before I promptly shook my head, clearing away unnecessary lecherous thoughts.

There were assassins to question and their bosses to find. I had work to do. But that didn't mean I couldn't think about it later.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chronicles of Valentine: Chapter Three**

**October 8, 2000**

Despite what I claimed, the next opportunity to get Reeve alone came two weeks later, not that I hadn't been making my presence known before then. I had learned that it was rather easy to fluster Reeve, even when I hadn't intentionally done anything.

It was the subtle flirtations that were more my style rather than outright groping and words. I stood unnecessarily close, which was still rather far considering how near other people would hover, but for me it was enough to remind Reeve of my presence. I deliberately lowered the tone of my voice and I spoke with words laced with carefully constructed innuendo.

It was somewhat cruel what pleasure I took in causing a man his age to flush red or stammer, finding somewhere to look other than at myself. At least I was assured that he truly was interested and not simply attempting to attach to the nearest person regardless of gender. All it took was a simple brush of my arm against his, or the hint of my breath on his ear for a light pink blush to stain his cheeks.

It was a measure of my self-restraint, these past couple of weeks. Because of the attempted assassination, Reeve was working double-time to figure out who was behind it and why. Not to mention one of his construction sites had recently collapsed for an unknown reason. Monster attacks were getting more frequent and a new breed of Malboro had shown its face, whose breath was instant death and reproduced far too rapidly for anyone's comfort.

In all of those events, there was scarce time to breathe, much less find time to slowly peel away the layers of Reeve's dress suit.

"If it gets any worse, I might have to call Cloud," Reeve was saying with a sigh, his eyes turned down to the map of the continent on the table in front of us. I wasn't looking at the map however. I had long ago memorized its contents.

Of course, I wasn't really listening to whatever it was he was saying either though I looked as if I were fully paying attention. His office was empty except for the two of us, being as it was nearly eight in the evening. He had called me in wanting to ask for my opinion on something to do with the Malboros. All of the other issues were being dealt with in their own way, but this one was still causing him difficulty.

I hovered beside him, unnecessarily close as he gestured towards certain ares of the map, outlining the regions where the monsters were known to appear. I wasn't watching his hands though, I was watching his lips move because I wanted to kiss him again. I had stolen my fair share in the past two weeks as it amused me endlessly to watch his reactions but enough was enough. The crises could wait half a day, or longer were we so inclined.

"I have some scouts that believe – Vincent!"

I gave him an innocent look despite the fact that I had just breathed hotly on his ear.

"Is work all you think about?" I returned mildly when he shot me a look from the corner of his eyes.

"No," he huffed, reaching for the map and promptly rolling it up. "But these creatures are dangerous and--"

"Tuesti," I interrupted smoothly, having heard enough of the malboros for one day. "Do you want me or not?" I was being blunt because I was out of patience. It wasn't usually my style but I didn't want to dance around in endless circles either. It was tiring and I left my dancing shoes back in high school.

It wasn't that I had forgotten Lucrecia, or how much I cared for her, or how I would never forgive myself. No, that guilt still lingered. It rang inside of me strongly, reminding me how little I actually deserved to find happiness.

But I also recognized that for all of the fighting I had done, helping to end Sephiroth's pain and madness and destroying Hojo, a small part of my guilt was absolved. I would never forget her, or what I owed Lucrecia. But I wanted to think that she would not have wanted me to completely distance myself from humanity either.

And Reeve deserved what little happiness he could find as well. He was a distraction, a friend, and most of all, a warmth inside of this cold heart. I had nothing but time in the world. I could mourn for Lucrecia all my life. She would always hold parts of me that I could never give to another. But perhaps she wouldn't mind if I let go, just a little.

And promise to never let something like that happen again.

Reeve looked a little flustered as my question sank in. "I do," he answered, turning to face me. "It's just--"

I kissed him, cupping his face with my hands and tilting his head towards mine. He sighed into my mouth and returned the kiss, his fingers coiling into the folds of my cloak as he sank against the table behind us. I pressed him against it, nudging my way between his legs as I kissed him. To my relief, and great pride, I felt an answering hardness against my thigh. I had been arousing him without even knowing it.

His tongue slid into my mouth with less hesitation this time, eagerly and with a sense of hunger in his movements. I deepened the kiss, dropping one of my hands to settle it on his hips. I trapped him against the table, unwilling to let him escape my grasp this time. A sound echoed low in his throat, shooting straight to his groin as I practically felt his heartbeat. My sensitive hearing could pick up the increasing rate, the thump-thump of his excitement.

My free hand reached for Reeve's pants, stroking him through the fabric of his dress slacks. Reeve's kiss slackened for all of a moment, he moaning into my mouth as I felt him harden against my touch. I dragged my mouth to his ear, sucking on the bottom of his lobe. He gasped into my ear, a warm puff of air against the shell. My name might have been said.

I felt my own blood beginning to stir, rushing through my veins and sending sparks of interest through my body. Reeve's hands gripped at the table as if to ground himself, his hips moving into my touch.

I deftly reached for his button, flicking it open with a twist of my wrist and sliding down the zipper. The sound was startlingly loud in the silence as I reached into his sagging pants and pulled down his boxers, only to wrap my fingers around his length. He jerked into my touch as I slid my palm across his sensitive flesh.

My mouth found his neck, dragging teeth gently against flesh that was several shades darker than my own. The faint taste of his sweat was sharp against my tongue, but nothing compared to the subtle scents of his cologne and his soap, easily noticed by my advanced senses.

"I should be working," he managed to get out, though it wasn't that convincing.

I stroked him, inspiring another groan from him that shot straight to my own groin. He could be sexy without even realizing it.

"If you would prefer to look at maps, you are more than welcome to cry stop," I responded, giving him a particularly long and rough stroke.

His breath hitched. "The world can wait."

It was all the permission I needed. Smirking to myself at an easy victory, I dragged my mouth from his neck, and lowered to one knee. One hand pushed aside his pants and boxers to his knees, his dress shirt hanging down to grant him some covering, not that he needed.

He gasped as I breathed hotly over the head of his arousal. "W-what are you...?" The question died however.

"I should think it obvious," I remarked before leaning forward and curling my tongue around his organ, sucking him into my mouth.

Reeve groaned helplessly, his hips jerking towards the wet heat of my mouth. I held him down from bucking too deeply, he unable to overcome my greater strength.

"Gods," he gasped, beginning to pant. One of his hands found my shoulder, gripping tightly but not attempting to force my pace.

I was glad for it. I took Reeve slowly, working my mouth around his length. I was grateful for his average size. It had been some time since I had last done this for another man and I was sorely out of practice. Not that Reeve would have known the difference. Knowing him, he had only known his hand recently.

I wasn't expecting much, just wanting to bring Reeve pleasure. He had been working so hard, straining himself and taking on more stress than a normal man could handle. I was willing to grant him a single moment of release with no reciprocation needed if necessary. I didn't expect Reeve to jump into my bed immediately anyways.

I had never been that optimistic.

It didn't take long before Reeve groaned, low and long, and then spilled into my mouth. I bore the bitter rush of hot seed and then. when he was finished, casually spit into a handkerchief I borrowed from Reeve's pants. I knew he carried one and was too polite to simply spit onto the floor.

Licking my lips, I dropped the soiled towel onto the table behind Reeve and grabbed his lips for another kiss. He returned it eagerly, hands gripping onto the side of my shirt. He didn't even wrinkle his nose at the taste of his own seed as I would have expected.

The kiss ended with a parting nip and somewhat satisfied, I pulled back, my hands reaching to pull his pants back into place. However, his fingers covered mine before I could even move them an inch. I raised my eyes back to his, always relieved that he didn't flinch at the full force of my crimson stare.

"What about you?" he asked.

I raised a brow. "No hesitation?"

The flush that took over his face made him look years younger, stealing red onto his cheeks. "I'm not entirely unlearned," Reeve responded, his fingers pressing gently against my side. "I know a little about how this works."

Part of me was amused. But it was entirely outvoted by the part of me that was really interested, trapped within the confines of my pants.

"As enjoyable as that sounds, I'm not exactly prepared," I answered with some regret, for once not having the foresight. My sensei back at the Academy would have berated me.

It was Reeve's turn to lift a brow, voice taking on a teasing note. "I thought Turks were supposed to always be ready."

"I'm not a Turk anymore," I countered, leaning in and brushing my lips across the clean-shaven portion of his jaw. I felt him shiver as I pressed closer, the heat between us something palpable.

"Could've fooled me," Reeve murmured, and then our lips were meeting again, something deep and lingering and I pressed him against the table. He was trapped, but he didn't seem to be fighting too hard for escape. I had him right where I wanted him.

One of his hands crept to my slacks, reaching for the small belt. I had taken to wearing regular clothing when around Reeve, something similar to my Turk regalia. It was easier to blend into the crowd than carting around in that crimson cloak and gold claw. As he fumbled with the clasp, my fingers slipped between our bellies, sliding beneath his shirt and palming the warm skin I found.

"It doesn't have to be anything special, right?" Reeve asked, his voice breaking the soft silence.

I stopped my exploration, looking up at him with a question in my gaze.

The blush, still remaining, deepened slightly. "I did my research."

Just like a scientist or engineer. I should have expected as much. It reassured me as well that it wasn't just him wanting the nearest person. He had actually thought about it. He really was worth my time.

I scraped my fingers over his belly, watching him shiver. "No, it doesn't."

His face took on the look of a man calculating something. "Hold on," he murmured, and then slid out from between me and the table.

I watched as he left the room, the door wide open behind him. There was the sound of things being scooted around, a chair, a drawer pulled open and then him rifling and rooting around. He appeared in the doorway, holding up a bottle of lotion rather victoriously.

"I'll buy her a new bottle," Reeve explained, confirming my suspicions that he had pilfered it from his Secretary's desk.

I reached for it but Reeve moved the bottle out of my hold, something playful in his grin. "Your turn," he said, reaching forward and tugging on my shirt.

I understood him perfectly, but I wasn't going to be entirely dissuaded. Ignoring the lotion for now, I leaned in and captured his lips. He returned the kiss eagerly, setting the bottle on the table behind him. I backed him towards it, hands groping and roaming.

His fingers found the buttons of my shirt, undoing them quickly and efficiently. I knew the moment he caught the scar on my chest when he sucked in a breath and the tip of one digit traced the railroad-like marking.

Straight down the chest, following the divide of the ribs. It arched up into a y near the top of my chest. Just like an autopsy.

"So warm," he murmured, fingers pressing against my skin.

I wasn't a corpse, despite what the scar might have signaled. The warmth of my flesh, the beating of my heart within my ribcage proved that. And I had demons to thank for my life. Thankfully, however, Reeve refrained from mentioning all of the morbid details that involved my existence.

"Women would kill for this skin," he murmured instead, remarking on my lack of any other marks. I was good as a Turk, no modesty needed.

"Flatterer," I returned, and kissed him again before he could say anything else.

Our tongues tangled sloppily as I pushed him back against the table, mine own arousal becoming pressing. His fingers dug into my side encouragingly, his hips rolling against mine. Encouraged by this, I pulled back and turned him around, having plans for him.

I grabbed the lotion and almost immediately, he tensed, shoulders and back locking up. I had expected it. Luckily, I wasn't planning what he thought I was. There were other ways to enjoy ourselves without anal penetration. His shirt quickly found its way to the floor.

I leaned forward, pressing my bare chest to his back and breathed hotly against his neck. One hand poured the lotion without looking, dropping the bottle back to the table.

"As much as you think you're ready," I murmured into his ear, fingers teasing at Reeve's entrance before slicking his thighs with the lightly scented lotion. "I'm not."

"Then what are you..?"

"You'll see. Close your legs."

Reeve obeyed as I settled my hands on his hips, angling him to my advantage. I pressed my mouth to Reeve's shoulder and took position, sliding the head of my arousal between Reeve's legs. I could feel my shaft nudge at Reeve's entrance before sliding slickly into the perfect space. I began a shallow thrusting, surrounded by heat and pressure.

Reeve sucked in a breath. "I see," he muttered, palms against the table and fingers clenching against the wood.

"There is more than one way to have sex," I explained, dragging my teeth against Reeve's shoulders. "Though this may be slightly more messy."

Reeve chuckled breathlessly, his hips moving restlessly. "Still good," he managed and shifted back to meet my thrusts. He pushed his legs closer together, tightening the grip around my member.

My fingers clenched on his hips and it was to my amazement that he was hard yet again. I reached around him, stroking my fingers around his length. I watched his muscles flex and shift as he moved with me, the table rattling beneath the force of our motion. He really was quite the attractive man and each time I wrung a gasp from him, my own blood boiled.

I was quite worked up as it was, yet I lingered, enjoying the wet slide between his legs. I felt my length rasp against his scrotum, catching and teasing against his entrance. Reeve felt it, too, and I wondered what it would be like to actually enter him. Not for now, but later perhaps. If he would allow me again.

Reeve groaned, though it wasn't one of pain, and I watched his fingers dig into the polished surface of the table. I was relieved to see that he was enjoying it as much as I. Leaning forward, I pressed another open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder, letting my free hand wander from its grip on his hip to roam over his front. I held him against me, grinding against his rather plump buttocks. Fingers plucked at his nipples, something I would assume no one had ever touched on him before from his reaction.

Then it was heat and softness and the rough slide of my palm over his shaft and the slick feel of thrusting between his legs. It was his moans filling the room, and my quiet gasps. The taste of his skin against my lips and the feel of his rhythm as we moved together. It was the table rattling beneath us and the whirr of the air conditioner sputtering to life.

I was the first to lose my control, understandable since I had been restraining myself longer. I held Reeve against me, pressed to his back and bit down his shoulder. He grunted but didn't complain, especially since I didn't break the skin. Heart beating wildly and body thrumming, I worked Reeve's organ skillfully and it was only several more strokes before he released as well.

With a gasp, the both of us collapsed onto the table, though I wisely steered to the side to avoid falling atop him. I gave myself several moments to catch my breath, noticing that Reeve did the same, as air from the vents above blasted cool air on our heated skin.

The aftermath of our excursion was plain to see. My shirt still dangled from my shoulders and Reeve's pants were tangled around his feet. My own sagged around my hips, keeping up by the grace of Kami. He barely stood, his weight kept up by palms balanced flat on the table, shoulders hunched. His own shirt had been thrown to Kami knew where and a mark was reddening on his upper mark.

Drawing myself upwards so that a hip was cocked against the table, I reached out a finger, tracing the small semi-circle with the tip of it. Reeve shivered and turned to look at me, his amber eyes darkened and sweat glistening.

"I'm so glad I took that chance," he murmured, reaching with one hand to swipe a palm across his forehead and run fingers through his dark hair.

I couldn't help it; I chuckled at him. It was such a Reeve thing to say. For all his manipulations and his ShinRa-associations, he could be incredibly honest with his feelings sometimes. I think it was one of the things that gave him away to me.

"I'm serious," he insisted.

"I know you are," I responded, watching him for signs of... well, something. I wasn't sure what. But I would know when I found it.

His lips quirked into a grin and he shifted. I could tell he registered mess when he grimaced, looking down at himself. "I need a bath," he lamented, reaching for the used handkerchief and using it to the best of his abilities.

I straightened, dragging my fingers down his spine. "I told you it was messy."

"That you did."

There was a moment of silence, and I could tell he was debating something internally. I read hesitation in his stance, in the way he furrowed his brow and sucked briefly on his bottom lip.

"Would you like to come back to my apartment with me?" he asked, without turning to look at me.

In the midst of buttoning my shirt and pulling up my pants, I nodded faintly, even if he couldn't see it. "Yes."

I heard him breathe a sigh, which might have been out of relief, before he turned and began searching for his clothing.

I couldn't help but tease him. "Don't you have work to finish?"

The look he gave me was a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "You were the one who distracted me."

We bantered between us a bit more and it was so blessedly normal, lacking in all the awkwardness I was expecting. A part of me was immensely relieved, half-believing Reeve would suddenly become ill at ease.

Nothing had changed and for that, I was grateful.

**February 15, 2001**

I breathed in the nicotine, watching the tip flare orange in front of me before pulling the cigarette away from my lips. The rush of the drug hit my system and I briefly felt the force of it before the mako burned the pleasant sensation. Damn experiments. I couldn't even enjoy cigarettes anymore.

I shifted position on the bed, letting the hand holding the cigarette dangle over the edge and smoke faintly. Next to me, Reeve yawned and stirred, making half an effort to get out of the bed. The window showed the greyish-blue of early morning, a luminescent light peeking in through the blinds. It was nearly time for the both of us to be up, yet we lingered in bed. My body still thrummed from our early morning excursions and I lamented the mess within the sheets. Both of us would need baths.

"As often as you berate Cid for them, it is still strange to see you smoking," Reeve commented, watching me.

I took another drag and looked at the offending stick of cancer. "It was a habit I had when I was a Turk," I answered, throwing my hand to the side to tip ash into the tray. "Besides, it's not like it'll really hurt me now."

My lover chuckled, rolling over on the bed. "Excuses, excuses," he teased, biting back on a yawn. Understandable, considering that we were up late the night before. I had come in rather late from my own business and we both ended up crashing pretty early.

The morning was slow and quiet, relaxing even. I heard the faint sounds of few cars passing outside the window, several floors down. Somewhere else in the complex a baby cried, demanding attention from its mother. The normal sounds of Reeve's apartment building. I had grown used to them all.

The chirping and energetic sound of my phone ringing cut through the atmosphere and I hated myself for allowing Yuffie to set the tone. Transferring my cigarette to my other hand, I reached for the cell and flipped it open. A familiar name danced across the screen and I couldn't help but wonder why he would call so damn early in the morning.

"Highwind," I greeted as I answered the call. "It seems rather early for you to be calling anyone, most especially myself."

"Vin, goddammit, one day I'll get you to say my name," Cid responded rather loudly, but even I could hear the exuberance in his tone. He was definitely excited about something.

Beside me, Reeve lifted a brow of amusement. He could hear Cid clearly, despite the fact he was coming through the phone.

"Is that what you called to say?" I returned mildly, finding it amusing to bait Highwind. He could be so predictable at times.

Cid swore under his breath, the phone crackling as he gripped it unnecessairly hard. "Not hardly, fucker."

"You're rather crude today, captain."

"Vince, shut up and let me speak," Highwind insisted with his usual display of patience.

I obliged. "As you will." Shrugging, though he couldn't see it, I brought my cigarette to my lips and took a deep drag. I relished in the brief burst of nicotine before it was gone again.

There was a moment of stunned silence. "... Are you smoking?" Highwind demanded, his smoker senses tingling. "Dammit, you bastard, you better not be for all the shit you talk at me."

I ignored him. Highwind was amusing for a time but once he got sufficiently worked up, it was hard to calm him down again. I wanted to hear what he called about, not bait him forever.

"There was a reason you called," I reminded him.

Cid grumbled under his breath for a good long moment, something about vampires and garlic, before finally speaking. "Don't deserve the good news," he mumbled and explained, "Shera's pregnant."

"Congratulations," I respond, pleasantly surprised. I hadn't even known the Highwind's were trying. Perhaps Cloud's new spawn was inspiring a baby fever. "When is she due?"

I heard the rasp of Cid scratching his stubbled chin. "Well, she's seven weeks along so we're looking at September."

A finger poked me in the shoulder and I shifted my eyes towards Reeve. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Cid had lowered his volume significantly so the President hadn't been able to hear the happy news. I mouthed the answer to him so Cid wouldn't guess that I was within company. No one knew about Reeve and I yet and I wanted to keep it that way. I didn't want to hear the inevitable questions or squeals of joy on behalf of Tifa and Yuffie.

Amber eyes practically lit up in excitement. "That's great," Reeve responded, looking several years younger.

The sight of his smile was pleasantly warming to something inside of me, and for a moment, I returned it before I realized what was happening. I hastily turned away and forced my attention back to Cid, who was still babbling in my ear. I interrupted whatever the captain was saying, something about baby showers and names, trying to ignore the strange niggle in my belly.

"I am happy for you, Highwind. Tell Shera I said so."

"Whatever," Cid grumbled, remarkably calmer than before. He was likely mollified by my actually expressing myself. "Just wanted to let ya know, Vince. Talk to ya later."

The phone went dead before I could give a proper goodbye. I was not offended; it was simply Highwind's way. I let out a final breath of smoke and stubbed out my cigarette, closing my phone in the same moment and tossing it onto the beside table. It hit with a clatter and promptly slipped to the floor, hopefully under the bed where I wouldn't have any reception.

"He's rather energetic for it to be this early," I remarked, more to myself than expecting any sort of response.

"Mmm." Reeve was rather non-committal and on second glance, I realized that the happy sparkle he had been wielding had all but disappeared.

He was now staring at the wall as though it were of great interest, forehead furrowed in thought. I recognized that look. Memories of the past, an old pain that I likely knew nothing about.

I pulled myself up until I was leaning against the headboard, the sheets falling down to my waist and exposing my upper body to the chilly air of the room. Scars and all. I looked at my lover, recognizing this was one of the moments when I should probably speak.

"Reeve?"

There was a very long pause, one filled with all sorts of heavy emotions that make it hard for you to breathe. "I was married once, you know," Reeve finally said, almost conversationally.

"No, I didn't."

He nodded slowly, as though confirming the information for himself. "It was only a short marriage. When she found out I was infertile, it was the end for her. Apparently, adoption wasn't good enough."

"How callous of her," I answered, unable to ignore the slow burn of anger winding its way through me. Had love not even fit into the equation at all for the woman? Or had she only wanted his money?

"Mmm." Amber eyes darkened with the old, remembered pain.

"Do you still want children?" I asked, more to fill the silence.

I didn't like the awkward atmosphere, the sense of ancient hurt that I had no clue how to heal. I didn't know the proper condolences to give and a part of me wanted to know why Reeve was sharing the information with me. Another part of me knew why, but didn't want to accept it.

Reeve looked at me, something unreadable in his gaze. "Is that a subtle way of asking if I'll leave you for a woman?"

"It was just a question, Tuesti. And before you ask, no, I won't be popping out any children for you no matter what Hojo did to me."

The words soaked into the room before amusement finally trickled through the sorrow. His lips cracked into a grin and he laughed. "I knew that, Vincent. And for your information, I will not be seeking out a woman. I haven't time for children."

"I thought so." In that moment, I thought about another cigarette, my fingers twitching.

It wasn't so much that I wanted or craved one. But the topic of conversation was steering into uncomfortable territory, one that I wasn't quite prepared to face. It was heading towards talk of permanence, of feeligns, of things I didn't have answers for and feelings I wasn't sure I held.

"Do you want children?"

"And pass whatever is in my blood onto some unfortunate child?" I returned mildly, fingers twitching again.

The urge for flight flickered in my veins. I fought against it.

Reeve shifted on the bed, his eyes only briefly flickering towards the clock, likely gauging how much time he had left. "If you were able to safely, would you?"

I looked at him. "Does it really matter?"

Amber eyes met my gaze. "Do you even know that you're doing this?" he countered, and I knew what he meant.

"Doing what?" I half-lied, pretending ignorance and reaching for a cigarette, the pack half-hidden under the bed.

I really couldn't handle this conversation without some sort of distraction, though the action itself would give me away. Reeve knew I didn't smoke that much, probably once or twice a week when the mood struck me. Two in one day was unusual enough for him to take notice.

He watched me, brow furrowing as he noticed my odd actions but wise enough not to comment on it. "Shying away from all sorts of permanence."

The lighter, stolen from Highwind when he wasn't looking, I was once a Turk after all, flickered to life. "I hadn't noticed."

"Liar."

Reeve moved to get up from the bed, rooting around for something to put on over his nudity. I watched as he settled for a pair of semi-clean boxers, not that it mattered since he was heading straight for the shower. He had to be at the office in less than a hour.

He ran a hand through his hair and I watched the muscles ripple in his back, still in good shape considering his age. Even the silvering of his hair didn't detract from his attractiveness, making him appear mature and distinguished. It often made me wonder if he didn't have a touch of mako in his blood, too.

"It's okay, you know," Reeve stated quietly, turning to glance at me. "I didn't ask for love."

I froze, hand midway to my lips at the sound of the word I had so carefully been avoiding. I swallowed thickly, blinking away my surprise, and completed the motion, using the drag of my cigarette to give me a moment to think.

I didn't know what to say, though I knew I had to say something. My gaze slid away to the walls of the bedroom, plain white and unadorned. There was a painting above the bed, I knew that much, something soft and simple. But in front of me was nothing but the shadows caused by the fan spinning above me. It was safe there in the cream-colored nothing, where his amber eyes weren't watching me.

I watched the cigarette flare orange before I settled for truth. "I don't have anything to give, Reeve."

"Which is why I didn't ask," he responded, and I could practically feel him smile in my direction, that same gentle smile that was still somehow full of the same steel that kept him alive and running the WRO.

His eyes found the clock again. "Eh? It's already twenty til? I've got to get moving."

He headed towards the door, idly stretching out a kink in his upper shoulders. I couldn't let him go with just those words, however, a touch of guilt impressing itself on my heart. It reminded me that I had never spoke plainly to Lucrecia either.

"Reeve."

I heard him pause, though I hadn't looked, his hand on the door frame. He looked at me, despite my care in not catching his eyes. I took another puff of the cigarette, mourning the flat taste in my mouth.

"I'll be here when you get home."

It was the best I could offer him when he knew he couldn't have my heart. I was fond of him and he was important to me, but as for the burning drive of love, I simply couldn't feel it for another. It was impossible.

Men weren't meant to love men.

"That's good to know." A finger tapped against the wood of the frame, a light series of raps. "I'll bring Wutaiian for dinner."

And then he was out the door and I was crushing out my cigarette, waving away the last vestiges of grey smoke. I drew up one knee, resting my arm on it as I locked my gaze on the empty doorway.

I heard the shower start, the radio clicking on because for some reason, Reeve couldn't bathe in silence. In the kitchen, the coffee pot came to life with a gurgle thanks to its timer, filling the apartment with the scent of roasted java beans.

For a minute, the familiar noise sounded a bit like home. At least, as close to home as I had right now. And I let myself smile just a bit.

Maybe I would cook breakfast for Reeve.

It was far from perfect. It was no fairy tale ending. But for happiness, even for this short time, I was satisfied.

I imagined that even Lucrecia would smile at the sight. And that, in itself, was all I needed to know.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chronicles of Valentine: Chapter Four**

**\--December 25, 2003--**

I wasn't there when Reeve died.

He had sent me on some mission, something trivial that really wasn't important in the long scheme of things. But my Turk instincts had been getting restless clinging so close to home and recognized that I was going stir-crazy. The beast had been easy to kill, easy to take down, but it had served its purpose. Once I reloaded my weapon and washed the blood from my claw, I was ready to return to polite society.

That was when my cellphone rang and I answered it. Cid was on the phone. He had bad news for me, subdued for once and using my whole name. Reeve was in the hospital, he told me, he had a stress-induced heart attack.

I had seen the signs. I knew that he was getting ill, losing sleep, not getting enough to eat or getting enough rest. But he ignored my subtle suggestions to rest, to give some of his subordinates some of the burden. He was certain he was strong enough to handle it, that he was still young and spry.

Maybe I didn't try hard enough. Maybe it was partly my fault. Maybe I should have ignored Reeve's protests and forced him to take a vacation, to rest. Maybe I should have shot Rufus ShinRa when I had the chance since it was partly his blame, too. There were a lot of maybes that I considered on my quick journey back to Junon. And quick it was. I didn't think I had ever moved that fast, even in my quickest of forms.

For once, even the demons living inside of me were subdued.

But by the time I arrived, it was too late.

His body was too weak, the doctors said. There was nothing they could do. It was the second one he had suffered.

What kind of lover was I that I hadn't even known there had been a first. Reeve never told me. Was it because I told him that I had nothing to offer him? Did he not want to worry me? Did he think I wouldn't care? There was no way for me to know.

When I heard the news, I didn't know what to think. I stopped and I stared at the doctors in disbelief, and then I turned and headed the door. To somewhere. Anywhere. I found the roof and there I hid while the others came, Cloud and the rest of the gang.

It was December 21st when I learned of Reeve's death.

I sat on the roof for the next twenty-four hours, never moving. I searched deep inside of myself, waiting for the crushing pain that I knew should have been inevitable. But all I felt was an emptiness, a hollowness. I felt numb; I was numb. There was nothing to be felt.

Except guilt. I should have felt sorrow, felt something. But like I had said, I had nothing to offer Reeve. Not even grief.

I felt his absence from his life, I recognized it in the next moves I made as I watched all the arrangements from the shadows. Cloud and Cid took care of most of them; no one asked my opinion. I didn't expect them to.

If there was anything he wanted to say, or had meant to say, I wouldn't know and never would. It was far too late.

You couldn't bring people back from the dead. Not even with a Life. Or a Phoenix Down. Sometimes it was too late for the magic to work. Sometimes there wasn't anything left to save. And sometimes, no matter how much one wished it, the body simply couldn't handle a revival. It rejected the magic.

There were times I wished my own had been so thoughtful those decades ago when Hojo worked his own sort of demonic magic to return my life to me.

The funeral was held several days later on the afternoon of Yule. Why we couldn't wait until a more suitable day, I didn't ask. It wasn't my place. Perhaps Reeve would have wanted it that way. Yule had always been his favorite holiday. I never even knew why.

Maybe it had something to do with the smiles of children. The ones he could never have. I wondered if Reeve ever felt unfulfilled. What his last thoughts were. If he regretted never having children or devoting his life to ShinRa and then the WRO. If he regretted what he shared with me.

There were a lot of people at the funeral, even Rufus ShinRa himself with his entourage of Turks. All of Reeve's acquaintances, and mine as well, were there. Cloud and Tifa, daughter in her arms, Cid and Shera with their own little one. Denzel was holding Cloud's hand, squeezing tightly as if recalling the deaths of his own parents. Nanaki and Barret and Marlene and Elmyra, arms still carrying the pink ribbons of memory. Yuffie looking solemn and quiet, Cait Sith held in her hands limp and lifeless without his master.

Blurs of black greeted my eyes, everyone dressed to mourn. Tears sparkled in many eyes, though few fell. I stood in the back, watching them all, listening to the overseer say a few words. Watched as Cloud spoke and a few others.

No one offered me any condolences. I didn't expect any. I didn't think anyone even knew about us.

And as for me, I was still trying to decide if it hurt. If the emptiness was pain or just the lack thereof.

I watched as they lowered his remains into the ground, the shell of a great man who was now returned to the planet. I watched my friends drop flowers and trinkets into his grave, to join the shovelfuls of dirt landing with steady thumps atop the casket. I watched the gloomy sky above, beginning to drop a few snowflakes down on the gathered crowd.

It was there that I realized I would have to do this, watch each and every one of my friends die while I remained behind. I looked at them, at each one, and counted how many more funerals I would be attending. Ten.

It was morbid and probably a little wrong of me to take count then and there, but it was it was also reality. For all of my life, I was soon going to be surrounded by death.

As a Turk I had reveled in it, bathed in it. Death was my life, it was my work. And now, it was my greatest enemy, it was the greatest thief in my life.

It was the one thing that would bring me true loneliness. The thought was even more sobering than before.

I waited until everyone had gone, turning their backs on the slowly filling grave and heading back towards the warmth of the sanctuary where they would talk quietly over warm cider and baked goods. My breath hit the air in whitish puffs, snowflakes dropping down into my dark hair. The wind stirred, blowing my unbound hair around me and sending a brief chill down my back. I burrowed into the big, black coat I had procured for the funeral alone.

The last mourner gone, I stepped forward, to the edge of the grave. Dropping the flowers I had been holding down into the grave, I said my final goodbyes to the man I had spent the last four years with.

I had no words to offer him. Yet, I lingered. Looking up at the snow-speckled sky. Reeve loved the snow because it covered everything in a film of white healing. As if the world was being born anew.

Such a silly idea.

I felt the eyes on me before I even turned and stepping back a few feet from the grave so that the diggers could finish their work, I didn't even acknowledge the visitor. I knew it was Cloud who had been watching me silently. I knew he would be the only one to talk to me. I let my gaze follow the movements of the workers as Cloud's boots crunched across the ground and he drew to a halt behind me.

"Did you love him?"

Were it anyone else, I would have become angry over the blatant query. It was disrespect to the dead. But it was Cloud, the only one who knew me, what I had suffered, and how I thought. He was the closest to understanding me, and a part of what I was trying to overcome. For him to ask the question was entirely expected.

"I was fond of him," I answered, not knowing how else to explain the feelings I had for Reeve.

They weren't bubbly and chipper, filling me with giddy delight. But there was a pleasant warmth there. A calm and peace that was always present. A feeling like home.

Cloud shifted behind me and then moved forward, to my side. "Why fake flowers?"

A smile twitched at my lips. "He once told me that he didn't like real flowers." I paused as the memory washed over me, Reeve's voice repeating itself in my mind. "He said that while they were beautiful, they reminded him all too much of how everything was slowly wilting away inside. He preferred something more lasting."

I felt the full stare of those mako blue eyes watching me. "I'm sorry, Vincent."

I closed my eyes and then turned away from the grave, looking him directly in the eye. "Did everyone know?"

He nodded, burying his hands in the pockets of his rather light coat. The mako helped keep him warm; I knew this from experience. "Yes, but because it was you, no one wanted to say anything. Yuffie was the first to figure it out."

"No surprise there."

Cloud shrugged off-handedly, spikes drooping in the chill as snowflakes made their home in the blond hair. "And even if Tifa wanted to say something, I made sure she stayed quiet. I know how you value your privacy."

I made a non-committal sound in my throat. "Thank you, Strife."

"After all this time and you still can't call me Cloud?" He hunched his shoulders and tilted his head back, his breath making a white puff in the cold. A flake settled his lashes, but before I could answer, he continued. "What are you going to do now, Vincent?"

I looked up, too, watching the snow fall in increasing clumps. "I haven't decided," I murmured, thinking of the empty apartment awaiting me. "Perhaps head to Cosmo Canyon."

"You're not going to take over the WRO?" He asked me that, yet it was clear that he already knew the answer and was merely asking for the sake of it.

I snorted, shooting him a look from the corner of my eyes. "Why would I do such a foolish thing? Reeve has others that are more than capable of handling it."

One hand dove into my pocket, reaching for the pack of cigarettes and pulling out one. For nostalgia sake. I pushed it between my lips, other hand digging for my pilfered lighter.

I watched Cloud watch me. "You were only in it for him anyways," he commented, almost thoughtfully, tracing my movements.

There was a flick as I breathed in the first rush of nicotine, blowing the smoke into the sky to join the snow. I wondered when Cloud had gotten so perceptive.

"Not originally."

"No, not originally," he agreed.

There was a moment of companionable silence before Cloud smiled, just barely. He turned away from me, eyes catching sight of Tifa waiting for him. She lifted a hand to wave, their daughter in her other arm. Denzel stood at her side, dancing from foot to foot. It was a sign that it was time for him to go.

He took his hands out of his pockets, giving her a brief wave to let her know he was coming. "Try not to disappear, eh, Vincent?"

"Is that an order?" I couldn't help the joke, because it certainly sounded like one. The cigarette burned in my fingers, but I didn't take another drag.

He shook his head at me, a trace of amusement in his tone. "Yeah, that's an order."

I watched as he started moving, tromping around the graves towards where Tifa was waiting on the other side of the fence. "See you."

"Goodbye... Cloud."

He paused, turning to look back at me before shaking his head and keeping going. I watched him walk the entire length of the graveyard before turning back towards what was left of my lover. I dropped the cigarette, grinding the tiny flame beneath my heel.

"I'll be there when you get home," I murmured, barely loud enough for the wind to carry my voice, and then I turned and left as well.

There was nothing remaining for me here.

**\--March 15, 2004--**

I abandoned the WRO after Reeve's death. There was no more reason for me to stay and I had no desire to become bodyguard for the next pencil-pusher to fill Reeve's spot. I packed up my meager belongings, locked up the apartment, and wandered for a few weeks with no destination in mind.

On my second circuit throughout the entire planet, I finally found a place to remain for a time. I stopped at Cosmo Canyon where Nanaki's company proved to be the most beneficial. He didn't pry into my affairs, he didn't ask questions I couldn't answer. He was a good conversationalist and best of all, he kept Tifa off my back.

We often sat in front of the fire in Bugenhagen's house, Nanaki curled up on the rug before the hearth, tail nearly always in the flames. I sat in a nearby chair, cup of tea steaming next to me and barely touched. It was the best place for conversation, or as some cases would have it, the lack there of.

It was one such night when Nanaki brought up the topic that had haunted me, though I hadn't spoken of it to anyone. It must have been the same for him.

"I am going to outlive everyone, Vincent."

My heart skipped a beat as I sipped at my tea. I couldn't help but correct him. "Not everyone," I said quietly into the cup, breath rippling the amber liquid.

Nanaki lifted his head, golden eyes taking in my unaging face, devoid of all lines. "It will be just you and me before long," he amended, laying his maw against his crossed paws. "You and me in this vast world."

"Cloud will last longer than the others," I added, staring into the flickering orange flames trapped within the hearth. Though they were powerful, they too would eventually die. I envied them. "And then it will be me alone."

"You don't know that for sure."

I raised my free hand, my gaze falling on my palm. I traced the lifeline barely visible in the firelight, a line that indicated I should have already died, or so Yuffie told me according to Wutaiian tradition. I found that particularly ironic.

I studied the veins in my hand, barely able to hear the pulsing of my own heart. I studied everything that claimed I was alive.

"I can feel it," I murmured without glancing at Nanaki. "I wonder how long this body of mine will make me suffer."

I felt his eyes on me, watching and evaluating, filled with compassion. "Vincent..." But he could offer no condolences.

There was a moment of silence. I pondered the fragrance of my tea. I tucked my hand back out of sight. I fingered cut hair, a test to see if it would grow back or not. I was still waiting on the results.

"Is it really living?" I asked, out of nowhere.

It was a question that had long since haunted me. I was once dead, now alive. I had demons inhabiting my body. I could not die, it seemed. Was I really alive?

"If there is no death, what point is there in living?"

"All things must eventually come to an end," Nanaki stated and it sounded as if he were quoting something. "That is what Grandfather once told me. Even the planets and the stars, which exist for millenia, eventually lose their inner drive and cease to exist. So will you one day."

I closed my eyes, laying my head against the back of the chair. "To anyone else, that would be a morbid and terrible thing. To me, it sounds like hope."

Nanaki chuckled. "Well, you have always been different."

"I wonder if I will see the world end," I mused to myself, not really intending for him to answer.

There was a pause. I heard his tail swish back and forth, in and out of the fire. "It _is_ living, Vincent, if you find a reason."

A sharp bark of sardonic laughter escaped me before I could stop it. "A reason? If only it were that simple."

He made a non-commital sound in his throat, which coming from him, sounded more like a growl. "Did you feel the passing of these years you shared with Reeve, however few they were?"

I was quiet as I considered his words. I knew what Nanaki was implying. I never loved Reeve, but I was happy. I was content for a short while in his presence. For a man like me, that was good enough.

"It is getting late," I answered, rising to my feet and stretching, causing bones to creak and pop. The tea found its way to a tray on the table that I would retrieve in the morning. "I'm heading to bed."

Not that I ever slept.

I could feel those golden eyes watching me. "Good night, Vincent. Pleasant dreams."

 _'If only,'_ I thought internally. "The same to you, Nanaki."

If only.

**\--May 23, 2004--**

Human lives were even more fragile than one would think, even for the supposed heroes of the world. With our greater strength, our greater stamina, it was simply shocking to see what could lay each one of us down.

A construction accident spelled the end for Barret. Crushed under mountains and mountains of stone and wood and debris. It took them thirteen hours to simply dig him out, because there were none on site who could use materia effectively but the one buried. By the time they got to him, it was too late.

But I heard that he died a hero, pushing some poor fellow out of the way. It sounded like a Barret-thing to do.

He was buried next to Reeve, in the special graveyard designated for us heroes, if we so choose. Something Reeve had put together, just outside of Kalm, the only place of peace we had ever known during the struggles. From there, Cloud and Tifa could tend the graves and keep watch on them.

Everyone had given up on Midgar. Even the most determined.

I felt his death only in the grief of those around me. He and I were never the closest of friends, but I did attend his funeral. I watched the sorrow of my other companions, I counted funerals again.

Nine, now.

Nine more times to watch my friends fall.

And still I watched my own life pass me by without any sign of it ending.

I spent my days at Cosmo Canyon, trading philosophy with Nanaki and staring quietly at the stars through Bugenhagen's large telescope. I wandered. I destroyed random monsters and I continued to exist, living vicariously through the lives of my friends.

Cid and Shera were working towards a second child; he was in the midst of designing a whole new airship. Something slimmer and faster, something he could leave his legacy in. I didn't blame him.

Nanaki continued the search for remnants of his clan. He didn't want to be alone forever. Loneliness was a terrible, gnawing thing that ate at you, made you a lesser person. And for all his canine qualities, Nanaki was just as human as the rest of us.

Cloud and Tifa were happy, the latter pregnant for the second time. He hoped for a boy. Tifa just wanted another healthy baby. It was that kind of optimism that showed you just how good of a person Tifa was.

And Yuffie, believe it or not, was currently being courted by a whole bevy of admirers. Her father had somehow crafted leash and chain that would keep her close to home and was teaching her all the ways of Wutai. I suspected that his increasing age had inspired him to finally do so.

She would make a fine lady one day, and a fine leader of Wutai. Not that she didn't still disappear on occasion, only to return with some rare and unusual materia. I hoarded mine jealousy, refusing to let her even touch them. The others, though, still in love with peace, had handed most of theirs over.

That was fine for them. But I was going to live for a long time. I didn't know what I would have to protect myself against. I couldn't die, but that didn't mean I wanted to experience the pain of being slashed or bitten or torn in off.

I still wandered, having no place to call my home.

In my journeys, I stopped by Nibelheim, walked the shadowed and ghost-filled halls. Remembered and sought to forget the tortures impressed on me. I looked at the ground and saw remnants of bloodstains. I heard mako gurgle in its tank.

I walked over scraps of journals and notes of a madman's deranged scribbles. I found few data on the experimentations on my person. Most of it was probably in the ShinRa main laboratory anyways, which was the one destroyed entirely by Diamond Weapon. Not that I was morbidly curious. I didn't expect there to be a cure. I couldn't just alter my DNA back to the way it was.

I would forever be like this.

I took small satisfaction in watching the mansion burn, the firelight reflecting on my eyes as I stood just beyond the fence and shot Fire after Fire into the towering structure. Of all strengths from a fully-powered elemental, I let the place burn.

Let my nightmares rest in fiery torment.

I hoped somewhere Hojo was screaming in anger as I destroyed most of his life's work, all the information needed to create another Sephiroth. I hoped that wherever that bastard was, he was furious. That he felt even a tiny inkling of what he had done to so many others.

And then I burned Nibelheim. It was a ghost town anyways, with no one living there. Nothing but a lie. Just bare shadows of a place that once was. Even the ShinRa actors had long since departed, leaving empty rooms and empty houses.

No one complained about my acts of arson. I doubted anyone would. Not even Cloud and Tifa had something to say, though I had the feeling Cloud wished he could have watched it burn, too.

After Nibelheim, I continued to wander, stopping at Cosmo Canyon to check in occasionally and assuage Tifa's worries. She was the one usually concerned for my health and well-being, often trying to convince me to join gatherings. I declined most of the time, never one for mindless celebrations of nothing. Occasionally, when feeling particularly nostalgic, I would attend.

I would stand back and watch them move on with their lives, leaving their stamp on the world. I would watch as they aged, as they survived and lived. I wondered if it was possible for me to do the same. Sometimes, I would catch Cloud's eye and understanding passed between us.

That was the difference between he and I.

Cloud pretended. I didn't bother to.

In this manner, time blurred together and before I knew it, I was attending another funeral. Sooner than all of us would have expected.

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**\--September 17, 2004--**

I was exploring the Ancient Forest south of Cosmo Canyon when my phone rang, somehow managing to catch one of the thin moments where I had reception. I knew that sound, my cell only making noise when it carried bad news. No one ever called me just to chat, since I wasn't the type for it.

Before I even answered, I morbidly wondered which friend I had lost this time. I expected to hear that more of the Turks had been lost. After all, both Rude and Elena were taken out in a bombing last spring, not long after Barret's accident. Protecting the President to the very end. They were probably content with their deaths.

I had gone to their funeral, had attended as a former Turk and had watched as Reno and Tseng remained stoic. As Rufus watched with something akin to grief on his face. The Turks were all he had left after all. His family and his company and his friends. The loss might have affected him. I wouldn't know. I didn't stick around to ask him to talk about his feelings.

I flipped open the phone and held it to my ear, the person on the other end taking that as a cue to speak. I recognized, in an instant, the voice pouring through the speaker, thick with grief.

"Vince."

I inclined my head, idly fitting a new clip into one of my guns. Out of sheer boredom I had emptied an entire series of rounds into the local bestiary. But I didn't want to be caught by anything without ammunition.

"Who was it?" I asked in a clipped tone, a part of me relieved to hear Cid's voice. Because that meant it wasn't his funeral I was about to attend.

It was callous and cold of me to think that way, perhaps, but it was the truth. I felt Reeve's absence of my life. I barely noticed Barret's. I had mourned his death as the loss of a comrade, as the world lost a good man. But it was an inevitability that I could more easily accept than Reeve's sudden departure from the living world.

Perhaps it was because part of me had grown complacent, had grown to accept the relationship I had with Reeve. Had maybe even wanted it, secretly hoped deep down that it would last and form something beyond my scope. That could even be why Reeve was taken so soon. My punishment for daring to think optimistically.

Some god out there was laughing cruelly, I was certain of it.

There was a moment of silence, followed by a low curse. "Damn, Vince. Don't go askin' it like that to anyone else. They won't get it." I heard a harsh sigh, and imagined Cid was running fingers through his hair, getting them caught on his goggles. It was a habit of his. "Especially Cloud."

Without having to ask, I knew in an instant the identity.

The gun found its way to its holster in one smooth motion and I dropped down from the giant boulder I had scaled, landing in the midst of the unpaved road. "Tifa, then."

Cid cursed again, but whether it was directed towards me or whatever circumstance had stolen Tifa's vibrant life from this world, I wasn't sure. I never claimed to fully understand the mind behind a man like Captain Cid Highwind.

He went on to explain exactly what had happened as I made my way towards Cosmo Canyon, where Cid – or one of his affiliates - planned on picking up both Nanaki and I. As I listened, commenting when appropriately, I examined my own feelings on that matter.

Tifa is... was a kind person. And I thought, on some level, that she might have wanted to help _fix_ me, the same way she had always empathized for Cloud. A perpetual optimistic with a heart of warm of gold, that described Tifa. She was a fierce fighter, and would kill to protect her friends, but even that didn't cover the gentleness that was her nature.

I believed that if she had been just a bit more tainted, just a bit more unkind, I might have gotten to know her a little bit better. But as it were, she reminded me too much of Lucrecia. As such, I avoided being around her too much, and the gatherings that she always seemed to arrange. I preferred my solitude to her mothering, to her attempts to help me find peace.

She simply didn't understand that it was something I had to find on my own, if it even existed. But that sort of conclusion was an utter impossibility so long as I could not die. What purpose was there in a life that never ended? What point was there in living?

It was an inner battle she could not help me with. And part of her might have been disappointed by that. Because there was nothing more that Tifa wanted than to see those she cared about – even if only platonic – happy.

Her loss would be one that everyone felt, across the entire world, I was certain.

Amidst the cursing and the occasional interruption of shouted commands to his subordinates, I gleaned the basics of what had happened from Cid. She had died of complications during childbirth, bringing her young daughter in the world. I was relieved to know that her child had at least survived. Because I knew it would make Tifa happy, even if she did have to leave Cloud behind.

"How's Cloud?" I asked, interrupting Cid's babble. Sometimes, it was better to be rude than listen to him ramble which eventually degenerated into meaningless curse words. Over the years, I had grown adept at knowing when to intervene and when to wait patiently for him to run out of steam.

There was a pause in the conversation. "He's... I dunno. Y'know the kid. He still don't talk about anything."

I had to shake my head at that. All these years and Cid still called them 'kids'. Yuffie and Tifa and Cloud... all of them were kids to him. And I suppose he had a point.

"And the babe?"

"Healthy as an ox." Cid grunted, and I heard the familiar flick of lighter to cigarette.

Shera would fuss if she knew, but since the Captain had given up of his own free will, I wouldn't tell. He probably needed it at the moment, Tifa's passing a reminder of his own mortality. Was it so morbid of me to wish that I had that same fear? Instead, I wallowed in the realization that I had one less companion, that an eventual loneliness was looming ever closer. And for a brief moment, I wished that I had attended that last get-together that Tifa had put together.

"And damn if she isn't pretty, Vince. Makes me wish I had managed to have a little girl."

I did chuckle at that. Most father's would have been proud of managing to brood three sons, not that Cid wasn't. But I could hear the paternal longing in Cid's voice – not something that I ever really expected to hear. I supposed the idea of a daughter, blinking up at him cutely and calling him 'daddy' was in the appeal. Considering I was never going to have any children of my own, I didn't entirely understand.

Running a hand through my hair which had regrown as I suspected it would, I redirected the conversation. "When is the funeral?"

"In a few days. We wanted ta make sure ya could make it."

That had to have been Cid's urging. Or perhaps Cloud's. I would expect something like that of Tifa but since the funeral was for her... Or maybe I was just underestimating my companions and their affections for me. Perhaps I was the only one who treated them so coldly and the rest was just my futile hope.

I inclined my head, though Cid couldn't see it, glancing at the landscape around me. Cosmo Canyon was just over the next two ridges. I would be there in only a few hours.

"Thanks, Cid. I'll express my condolences when I see Cloud in person."

"He'll be glad to hear them," Cid returned, and I could tell that even he was upset by Tifa's death. She had been like a mothering figure to all of us, a stable presence in our lives. "See ya then, Vin."

I shook my head at his nickname for me, having never managed to convince him to use my whole name every time. "Goodbye, Highwind," I replied, and promptly ended the call.

Tucking the phone carefully back into my pocket, I released the heavy sigh I had been holding. Another life taken by the cruelties of mortality. I had the weighty thought that I wished I suffered from it as well. But I kept such hopes to himself. I had the feeling that they would be unwelcome to my friends, who wanted just a few more moments with their loved ones.

I attended Tifa's funeral, standing in the back of a huge press of people. No matter how much Cloud had wanted to keep it private, there were simply too many who loved the vivacious barmaid. He couldn't keep them all away. And as such, the procession was packed. The cemetery was surrounded by the public, all wanting to say their goodbyes to Tifa.

She had been a giving person, and many in the crowd reflected that. Each had a story to tell of how she had helped them in some way. Advice. A free meal. A place to stay for the night. Help in finding a job. Whatever they needed, she had always selflessly provided it. And I wasn't surprised in the slightest to hear it.

She was that kind of person, who had never been able to turn away someone in need. She thought she could fix anyone if she just gave them a little affection, a helping hand. I know she thought the same of me. I wondered if it upset her, to have died without being able to "fix" me as she had wanted.

I watched Cloud as well, watched as he clutched onto one child's hand and held the other in his arms. Quiet. Never crying, solemn in the face of their mother's death. As if the babe knew that one life had been given for another and knew to be respectful of that.

And in Cloud's face, I couldn't see anything. He was carefully blank, though eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Trying to be strong for the sake of... well, everything, most likely. Cloud always did have a problem expressing himself sanely.

I wondered if he faced the same problem as myself. I knew that he cared for Tifa, he never would have married her if he didn't. But did he love her? Was he like me? Did he hold affection for his wife, but couldn't find it in him to love?

I knew he was grieving. I could see it in every tremble of his fingers and every time he chewed on his bottom lip. But was it the heart-clenching, nauseating grief of losing someone you truly loved? That I didn't know. And I wasn't so callous as to ask.

I left before the procession was finished, unable to abide by the crowds and crowds of people striving to make their final offerings. The press was too much for my comfort, and it was safer to simply wait until the surges of strangers had stopped. I watched from afar and waited until late evening, when the last stragglers departed. Only then did I say my own goodbye, standing over Tifa's grave.

_Loving wife and mother. Friend to all._

That was what her gravestone said. And I couldn't help but smile a bit at the sight. Yes, friend to all. Even self-enclosed, once-dead monsters raised from a coffin and brought to the world of the living again. I thought, in that moment, that we had considered Aeris our hope all those years ago against Sephiroth. But now, I began to think that maybe we hadn't seen what was right before our eyes.

I wondered if Tifa ever thought she was only second-best. That she strove to be so kind and giving because she wanted to be needed the way we had all looked to Aeris. I wondered if she ever looked at Cloud and knew what he was thinking, knew that she couldn't an innocent flower-girl from the slums. I wondered if she ever cursed her lot in life.

And then I realized I was just projecting my own dissatisfactions and resolved to stop wondering.

I crouched, brushed my fingers over the carved words of Tifa's headstone, and then set my own gift over the recently filled dirt. In one of the few clear spots I could find and right next to a few folded sheets of paper, bright colors peeking from the sides.

I rose to my feet, tucked my hands in my pockets, and looked down. My murmured 'sleep well' was carried away on the wind. And then I was gone, leaving the mourning to those who actually carried Tifa in their heart.

**\--January 3, 2031--**

I was there this time. There when one of my friends succumbed to the pull of inevitably and allowed death to claim them. Not that Cid didn't go down kicking and screaming, only giving in to lung cancer when it was clear his body wasn't going to take anything else. All those years of smoking cigarettes had finally caught up to him. And I didn't have the heart to say I told you so.

I had received the news six months earlier, Cid calling me to tell me himself of the diagnosis. But I believed in Cid's strength, in his determination. He was a member of AVALANCHE after all. He was like the rest of us. Strong. But he was also mortal, and sometimes, I think I forgot that.

Or maybe I wanted to believe he was unbeatable because he was one of the few in the world I actually did care for. Cid was my platonic friend, the one man I never saw in a sexual manner. I could rely on him and trust him. I could talk to him.

Ashamedly, I admit that I ran when I was first told. I stayed away for all those months, not wanting to see my best friend wasting away. I didn't want to see how weak he had become because it hurt too much. It was striking, just how much I felt Cid's oncoming death but had only been able to feel numb at Reeve's. The many kinds of grief.

I regained my senses after a scathing phone call from Shera. She had been upset, her children had been upset, but she had bothered to take the time to call me. To tell me that her husband would have liked it if I was there. And I couldn't deny her. I couldn't deny him.

I left my temporary campsite in the wide and empty fields outside the Chocobo Ranch and made my way back to Junon. He had been moved there after the illness had progressed so far that hospitalization was necessary. I felt guilty that it had taken me that long to stop being so afraid. He had even made sure that none of the doctors around him wore the coats that I so hated.

I was there for the last week of his life, a dark and silent presence in his hospital room. We talked and it was just like old times, he goading me and I not rising to the bait. I played cards with him, endured his constant cursing, and watched him enjoy the rest of his life. He never once lamented his fate, never once cursed kami or grew angry. I admired him for that strength.

I remembered one such conversation. It was late at night and Cid was suffering from insomnia due to all the medicine they were pumping into his body in hopes of extending his life just a bit longer. I suspected any day now that he was simply going to tell them to stop. It wasn't worth the pain and the discomfort. He'd rather die happy and coherent.

"Yanno, Vince," he began, puffing away on his cigarette. He was already dying, he had claimed, so let him enjoy his burst of nicotine. It wasn't as if they could do any worse. "I worry about you sometimes."

I paused in the midst of channel surfing, trying to find something the both of us could enjoy and mock thoroughly. Perhaps an old horror movie. "Why is that?" I wondered aloud, glancing once at him from the corner of my eyes before continuing in clicking the remote.

He shifted on the bed, making a face when pain spiked through his chest, only to subside again. If he breathed in too deeply, too suddenly, it often caused him to hurt like that. I pretended not to notice, knowing just how much Cid didn't like weakness being thrust in his face. Even now, he was sensitive about his age. Though I suspected he was happier dying of cancer than of something like old age.

Cid looked at me, normally bright blue eyes dull with fatigue and failing health. "You've never moved on. Not like the rest 'o us." He took another puff of his cigarette. "And the last time you were happy, Reeve was still alive."

I stiffened, television pausing on some sort of cooking show. Honestly, who cooked at two in the morning. The mundane thought passed through my mind and I realized I was stalling. I knew what Cid was getting at, and I was afraid to face it.

"Is that so?" I asked, and the chill in my voice made even me blink in surprise. I didn't want to be like that towards Cid.

He recognized it, but like he usually did, he ignored it. "Yeah. That's so." After a final puff, he ground out the cigarette, only half-smoked. "I don't know what all Hojo did to ya, and I ain't gonna ask 'cause that's a man's business. But I don't like seein' ya like this, either."

I sighed, and finally gave up my channel-surfing, leaving it on some infomercial as I laid down the remote and turned to Cid. The look in his eyes was both wary and hopeful, full of concern for me. I couldn't find it in me to be angry.

"I haven't aged, Cid," I said, having been keeping to familiarities. I didn't want to play the formal game while he was on his deathbed. "And I don't think I ever will."

He peered at me. "Ya sayin' yer immortal?"

I shrugged, not liking the topic at all. I looked past him, towards the window where curtains were parted to reveal the vastness of a black sky. Only broken by the lights of the rest of Junon and the faint sparkle of the moon over the ocean's waves. It should have been a tranquil scene. To me it stank far too much of death, just like this hospital room.

"Probably," I admitted. "So all that moving on everyone has embraced, I don't find it possible." I didn't know why it was easy to admit this to Cid. Probably because I knew he wouldn't spill the secret. Nor would he badger me about it. "I'm still stuck at twenty-seven, still locked in Hojo's basement and I don't think I'll ever break free."

I hated myself for the slightly wistful tone my voice had taken. And I know Cid noticed it, because for a second there, his face slackened with sympathy. Something I never wanted to get from him. Not that or pity. I just wanted an uncomplicated friendship.

I looked away from him, the sudden urge to flee rising again. I couldn't bear sympathy and pity. My circumstances were of my own making. If I hadn't been so foolish then. If I had been better prepared as a Turk should have been. If I had protected Lucrecia. This life, this body, it was my penance. I didn't deserve that mercy.

"Then, it's time to move on, isn't it?" Cid asked, his rough voice finally shifting through the thick quiet that had gathered between us. "You're not in that place anymore, Vince. Ya burnt it down. It doesn't exist. You should try to live."

I frowned, feeling something squirm uncomfortably inside of me. "I can't live when I exist like this," I said. "Living is for those who actually have death to fear."

"You don't know that you can't die."

He had a point. Why did Cid pick now to be so reasonable? Where was the man who had once jumped onto a runaway train with a half-assed plan in mind and managed to stop it on pure luck alone? Where did this logic come from?

I rolled my eyes. "Are you saying I should test it?"

He gave me a look that he normally reserved for his children and I couldn't help but feel just a bit offended. "Don't be stupid, Vince. I'm just saying. Stop locking yourself up or you'll never live for anything."

"You sound like Tifa," I muttered, wondering if Cid thought he should take her place since the brunette was no longer there to try and convince me of hope.

"Well, she was right," he retorted in that usual, no-nonsense Highwind tone that left little room for argument. Even thin and balding, with hair a silver-grey, he still commanded respect. And I was hard-pressed not to listen.

I shifted position in a chair that was no longer comfortable, wishing for a cigarette of my own. This conversation was too heavy for the both of us. He didn't need to spend his final days worrying about me. And I didn't want to spend his final days discussing something like this.

Cid sighed, and it sounded raspy. Wheezing. Too close to weak for my comfort. "I can't worry about ya after I'm gone is all, Vince. And someone needs to."

I wanted to snort derisively. I refrained because it was Cid. "Like someone to come home to?" I questioned, unable to keep the trace of bitterness from my voice. It was sarcastic, and I honestly didn't expect him to agree to something so bathetic.

"Yeah," he responded to my utmost surprise. "Exactly that. I see ya alone, Vince, and it ain't a happy sight. I don't want that for my best buddy."

The warmth that broke into my chest at being called his closest friend very nearly shattered the ice I had been carefully crafting to protect myself. The anger I was cautiously cultivating sputtered and died. I exhaled loudly and picked up the remote again, calmly returning to my channel surfing and looking for something a bit more interesting. Maybe late-night/early-morning cartoons.

Silence descended, but it was more comfortable this time. I waited until I finally selected a show and settled back in my chair before responding.

"Thank you," I said to him softly, but when I turned to look, Cid had fallen asleep. I instantly quieted, not wanting to disturb him.

I rose to my feet, tucked his blankets around him and frowned at the sound of his labored breathing. He had grown quite pale as well. And I knew, just then, that it wasn't long before he was destined to leave Gaia and return to the Life Stream. For the first time, I didn't envy someone for their death.

A sound in the doorway distracted me and I looked to see Shera standing there, worry etched into her lined features. I politely excused myself and left her to oversee her husband, my own mind a turmoil of thoughts. Cid had given me much to think about. So I headed to the cafeteria for a cup of warm tea to bury myself in consideration.

In the morning, Cid was gone, just as I had suspected.

I stood there as Shera wept, even though she had known it was coming. As his children lamented their father's passing, and his grand-children cried. I was a silent presence in the background, mourning the loss of my best friend. I couldn't offer them comfort because I had none to give. But I could share their grief.

I felt Cid's absence more strongly. He was the nearest thing I had to a best friend, to family, if I wanted to be honest with myself. Cloud was someone who understood me. Nanaki was a suitable conversationalist. The others were mere associates. But Cid was an actual friend.

Suffering the funeral in silence, I held onto the pain Cid's death had caused me. I nearly cherished the ache, convinced that it was all the proof I needed to show I really was alive. I still could _feel_ , despite what Hojo had done for me and my heart that Lucrecia still owned. It was as if I had lost a sibling.

Afterwards, shuffling along after the crowd, I later attended the wake. Simply because I knew Cid would have wanted me to. I made my way to Shera after most of the others had offered their words. Only then did I give my condolences, finding them the honest truth.

To my surprise, she returned them.

Her hand sat gentle on mine, soft and wrinkling with oncoming age. Brown eyes looked up at me, filled with grief, but also understanding. "You loved him, too," she told me, and there wasn't a trace of bitterness or jealousy in her tone. "In your own way, Vincent."

And for her words, I had nothing to say, nothing to return. It was true, and even I knew it. Cid was very dear to my heart.

Then and there, I made myself a promise. I would watch over Shera, even if from afar. If she and her children needed anything, I would do my best to support them. They were the most important existences to Cid, and the most I could do to repay him was protect that.

I offered Shera a small smile for her kind words and kissed her hand. After that, I excused myself from the wake, unwanting to hear the condolences of the others. And though I felt the heavy gaze of bright blue eyes, I didn't stop to speak to Cloud. I wanted to finish the rest of my grieving in peace.

I wandered out of the wake and the gathered people, all who had come to say farewell to the famed Captain Highwind, and headed to the outskirts of Rocket Town. I stood in the shadows of the rusting remnants of the ShinRa No. 26's resting place. I let the cold wind whip around me, making me shiver, and I thought about dreams. Not just mine, but Cid's and everyone else's.

I lifted my hand, free of that unattractive claw which I only kept when wandering the monster-filled landscape, and brushed scarred fingers over the metal. Flakes of rust flittered down, before being caught in the wind and carried away. The iron was freezing cold to my touch, consequence of the bitter winter temperatures. A dream made real, that was what this rotting monument said to me.

I thought that it was kind of nice that Cid had been able to live his dream, to journey to space and fly amongst the stars. I thought about how I really didn't have any dreams or aspirations or goals. Which was a painful reminder that I really was just existing. And I considered doing something about that, for the sake of a dying man's last hope.

It was there that I said my goodbyes. For though Cid was buried in Kalm, the wake had been several days later in Rocket Town. And his body might have been in the earth, and his soul returned to the Lifestream, but I honestly believed that what really mattered of him was here. With the remnant of his dream.

"Thank you," I said, and left it at that. I knew that Cid wouldn't have wanted to hear long lines of prose. Pansy, mushy shit, he usually called it. And even that thought was enough to bring a small, grieving smile to my lips.

This was one loss I wasn't going to easily shake off.

**\--August 12, 2035--**

I no longer counted the time in years. I started to number them by deaths. By the loss of my companions, of those that I had once risked life and limb alongside to save our world. Not just once, but twice.

The numbers were dwindling with each decade, leaving me suffering in an increasing loneliness. Another funeral came, stealing upon us without warning, making me wonder if any of us would die of natural causes. I supposed, however, that the best karma could do was give us a death we would be proud of.

Except myself.

On a warm day, at the last lingering traces of summer and the opening chords of fall, I stood at yet another funeral. I counted them in my head. I felt the numbness inside spread just a bit further, sinking into my joints.

Materia-hunting. I supposed it was a death that would make Yuffie proud. Even more so since the little gem she had died to obtain, had emerged unscathed and was now on prominent display in Wutai. I had stopped to see it, staring intently at the crimson sphere. A summon materia. An incredibly _rare_ summon materia.

I could just see the ecstasy in her face, the pride blossoming from every pore. Her family had certainly been pleased. Her children – yes, Yuffie had children. I couldn't believe it either – stared at the small gem with glowing gazes and sparkling expressions. Tear stains marked their young faces, but they were _proud_ , and that was all that mattered. They loved their mother, they missed her, but she had left them a legacy. They would never forget her, and neither would the world.

The words of the man presiding over the funeral washed over me. Here, in Wutai, a place that was bittersweet to me, I still stood at the back of the crowd. Somehow, I felt it wasn't my place to stand with the others. A silent shadow in the background, lingering to offer my condolences and say my final goodbyes, but otherwise invisible. That was my purpose. And what could I offer to the bereaved but apathy? In many ways, I envied those companions of mine that I had lost. Because they had seen the end of their lives and I could only wonder if I ever would.

A wind whipped through the proceedings, tugging at the folds of my long coat and flicking my hair around my face. It smelled and tasted clean, bringing with it the crisp freshness of oncoming autumn. It was a perfectly beautiful day. I hunched my shoulders against the chill anyways and watched as everyone said their final goodbyes. Most were strangers to me. Everyone but the lingering remains of those of us who helped to save the world.

As always, I waited until everyone had cleared the area, returning to their families and homes, before I stepped forward. One gloved hand emerged from my pocket, a fully-powered materia dancing on my fingers. I watched the small globe roll around my palm, catching the sunlight with brilliant sparkles, before lifting my gaze to the etched stones in front of me.

Unlike the others, Yuffie hadn't been buried, but entombed in the family shrine like the rest of her family. Like Godo before her when he had fallen to a heart attack and her own mother, who had fallen in the middle of war.

I flicked the materia back and forth in my fingers, and then placed it carefully amongst the other vases and offerings. It glinted a deep jade. I wouldn't miss it, and it was the type of thing that Yuffie would have loved to steal from me were she still among the living. I thought it would make her laugh if she knew I was now freely giving it to her.

I was so certain she would enjoy my gift.

With that finished, I had every intention of leaving again, though my destination was still unclear. Perhaps back to Cosmo Canyon. Or even returning to my own wandering until another such occasion came again. Until another funeral.

I felt Cloud's presence behind me before he even spoke. The weight of those blue eyes on my back had always carried a certain energy that I could always sense. There was something within Cloud, something that seemed to resonate between us, that made it impossible for me to not recognize him.

"You always stand in the back," he asked softly, and I knew he was curiously watching the lines of my shoulders. "Why?"

I didn't really have an answer for that which would make sense to Cloud. I just knew that I didn't belong up there with the rest of the mourners. Not with those who actually cared. Especially when I couldn't find the crack of the ice over my heart to even feel grief. I simply felt empty with each new passing, the loneliness filling in every new hole.

Cloud didn't take my lack of answer offensively, barreling forward with that same determination I had seen him use against everything in his path. "Where have you been since...?"

"Since Tifa's funeral?" I finished for him, turning to face the blond.

He was standing with arms shoved deep into his pockets, nearly buried in an over-sized jacket. Shorter spikes still managed to stick up straight from his head. And he didn't look a day over thirty thanks to the materia. The last vestiges of the young boy he had seemed at twenty-one had matured into the man he was now. He no longer seemed so delicate and frail, incapable of lifting that monstrous sword.

He tilted his head to the head. "Yes."

I shrugged dismissively, feet crunching over the ground as I moved to his side. "Cosmo Canyon mostly," I answered, and unconsciously, we began to move together, heading out of the area housing the Kisaragi family shrine. "But now that Nanaki has found Lycana..."

I trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. After all, I'd had no real destination in mind. I could easily pick up and move, making my existence nomadic once more. I had no real attachments to any place, every one I once knew either dead or soon to be so.

My fingers suddenly itched for a cigarette, though I resisted the impulse. I wanted that rush of nicotine to remind me that I was still alive, to remind me of the time I spent with Reeve. When I had been a real person and not just a living corpse, like my current condition.

"Come home with me."

The statement took me by complete surprise. I blinked, looking at him. Certainly it was possible. His children had grown, married, moved out of the house, leaving their father to the loneliness of his large and empty home. His wife was gone, and just like myself, his friends were all dying around him. He would live long after they were gone, possibly even longer than some of his grandchildren.

He paused just outside the gate, turning to look up at me. "We're outliving them all, Vincent," Cloud continued, his voice nostalgic and his blue eyes unnaturally bright, nearly glimmering with the hint of mako. I wondered if he brought it to the surface on purpose. "Soon it will be just you, me, and Nanaki."

"And then me alone," I added, but it was said so quietly, I wasn't sure if he noticed. I buried my lower face in the collar of my coat as I watched Cloud, obviously searching for the words he wanted.

The wind kicked up, shoving fallen petals in our faces, but neither of us moved. "I'm tired of being alone. I miss Tifa. I miss... warmth. And I'm tired of denying who I am."

I understood perfectly. But I asked all the same. "And who are you?"

I wanted to know if he realized as much as he thought he did. If he knew just what he was getting himself into.

His eyes met mine, so big and bright, and very nearly like the youth I had met those many years ago, looking down at me as I woke from my endless sleep. "A man in love with his greatest enemy," he nearly whispered, stepping closer and lowering his tone even further. His gaze fell to the safety of the leaf-covered ground. "A man who married a woman he didn't love so she would be happy. A man who... who..."

I understood completely. I knew what he was trying to say. And I was comforted and assured by that. Cloud knew what he was after all. Maybe we were more alike than I had thought.

"A man who can never see beyond the past he won't let go of," I finished for him quietly, my words dropping heavy between us.

Cloud nodded slowly. "Yes," he answered simply. "A past I can't and won't ever forget."

The air between us felt very heavy, rift with expectations. I asked myself if I was ready for this, for another relationship. To give myself to something that had an expiration date. If I wanted to face that pain again. Losing Reeve still echoed in me, though it had been more than thirty years ago. I could still remember him so clearly. Remember the feeling of home being with him had evoked in me.

I thought of Cid, and what he had said to me. How I needed to try living and not existing. How I deserved to find happiness and should take it when it come, rather than warily making my exit. How he was probably worrying about me even now, in his own gruff and stubborn way.

A man's dying wish.

I thought that I would have that cigarette after all, and reached into my pocket for one. I lifted the stick to my lips, digging around for matches. I heard a snick, the smell of sulfur filled the air, and then Cloud was offering to light it for me. Something unreadable in his gaze. I tilted my head in thanks and watched the tip flare orange.

I breathed deep of the nicotine and wished the effects were more lasting. Beside me, Cloud watched and I had an impulse. Wordlessly, I tapped out the pack and handed him one of my stock. He took it with an inclination of his head and lit it himself. I hadn't even known he smoked. I said as much.

He shrugged, tapping off excess ashes with efficient and practiced motions. "I don't," he said, bringing the cigarette to his lips and despite myself, I couldn't help but watch the motion. Cloud was an attractive man. "But Zack did. And there are still remnants of him lingering inside of me."

I think that I understood.

I let the cigarette smoke surround us before turning to look at Cloud, glad for the absence of others around us. The grounds were pretty much deserted at this point, everyone having gone inside for the wake and the last celebration that would serve as Yuffie's final goodbye. That was the Wutaiian way, after all.

"Cloud," I began, catching his eyes with his own. "What do you want out of this?"

It sounded callous on second thought, but it was what needed to be ask. Cloud didn't often get something that was too subtle, and I thought that it was better this way anyways. I didn't want to waste time trying to figure something out when I was the only one who actually had forever.

Blue eyes met me evenly, so deep I could drown in them. "To not be alone anymore," he said simply. "And to be understood without the weight of expectations. You're the only one who can do both."

I dropped my cigarette to the dirt and ground a heel over it to quench the flame. "Shared comfort?" I stated by way of question.

He nodded, stepping nearer and closing the distance between us. He hadn't managed to gain any height, not that I expected he would, and I was forced to shift my head downwards. I watched as he puffed one last time on the cigarette, then flicked it away, the butt landing in a small puddle of water from the prior night's rain.

"If you want to call it that," he said, and the air between us suddenly became very heavy.

I was intensely aware of his closeness, of the light scent of his cologne and the brightness of his eyes. I was reminded that the last time I had touched another human in that manner was Reeve, more than thirty years ago. And I craved that contact, craved the feeling of running my hand over another's warm skin. I wanted to touch Cloud's, touch the fragility that bore strength.

I tipped my head to the side, proud of my restraint. "And no expectations?"

He paused, seeming to consider this. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, shoulders hunching against the brief flash of chill wind. "Does it ever go away?"

Confused by the change from answer to query, I blinked. "What?"

"The pain, the loneliness, the... regret," he clarified, and I could tell that they were all emotions weighing heavily on his heart. Cloud was a man who lived in his guilt, much like himself. Which was probably why I understood him so well.

I thought about it, searching my own emotions. "No," I finally replied quietly, thinking of the burdens I still bore, even all these years later. "It never does. But it gets lighter... easier to bear."

"Is that so?" he asked, looking up at me, and there was something like a wanting in his gaze. A desire that he fully intended to pursue.

I admit that my stomach tightened in anticipation at the sight. "So I have come to learn."

And then he was kissing me, pressing those lips against mine and shoving his body up to mine with voracity. His fingers tangled in my hair and he held my head close, refusing to end the kiss, not that I was particularly inclined either. I opened my mouth to his voracious hunger, letting him plunder me with his incessant tongue, letting him grind against me.

I let the vitality that Cloud still carried wash over me, his overwhelming sense of life. Unlike myself, Cloud hadn't given in. He still embraced living, still clung to every beat of his heart. He didn't just exist, he _lived_ , in every meaning of the word. And while the past was still heavy in his heart, and his own failures still clung to the back of his mind, he didn't let them rule his present.

I think I envied him for that freedom.

I curled my arm around Cloud's waist, dragged him closer to my body, and dove into his taste. I sampled what I would soon have near to me everyday, if I accepted Cloud's offer. And in the back of my mind, I knew that I wouldn't be turning him down. Turning _this_ down. If there was one person on this planet who could understand, it was Cloud. I would be a fool to say no.

The kiss ended with the both of us flushed and faintly breathless, a hungry sort of desire sparked to life. Like me, Cloud had also been without a lover's touch for quite some time. Or at least, I assumed so. I couldn't be certain he hadn't had flings between now and Tifa's passing.

With a grin threatening to break his lips, Cloud looked up at me. "I take it that's a yes?" he questioned mildly, raising one brow.

I didn't answer with words. I kissed him instead. Cloud was a man of action after all. He would understand that far better than anything I could say.

And so it began.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**\--June 20, 2040--**

I gasped, fingers clenching around the covers as teeth bit on the back of my neck, hard enough to leave a mark but not draw blood. My hair was brushed to the side and hung down beside my face, a curtain of black obscuring my vision to the right. Not that I really needed to see. My eyes were closed, too busy absorbing the sensations.

Lips traveled from the base of my neck and down my spine, occasionally interspersed with flicks of the tongue or the scraping of teeth. Hands on my hips clenched and unclenched as Cloud rhythmically surged inside of me, deeper and harder with each thrust.

Feeling a shaking in my limbs, I spread my knees a bit further on the bed for balance, which encouraged Cloud to go even deeper. Sweet ecstasy burned through my blood, and even the sweat painting my body couldn't distract me from the impending release. I could hear Cloud behind me, breath coming in sharp pants as he fought against his own orgasm.

His hand fumbled around my waist, letting loose his grip on my hip to curl fingers around my erection. His grasp was smooth and warm, the perfect mix of strength. The lack of calluses reminded me all too much of the life we had pretty much left behind, the life of a fighter, a soldier. Neither he nor I had done much fighting in the past five years. And I doubted we would do much more.

A moan stole from my lips as he expertly stroked my shaft, a need building inside of me that I didn't bother to suppress. It curled in my belly, like a churning flame and broke its way free, spilling my release into Cloud's fingers. He groaned as I clenched around him, the hand on my hip tightening in its grip. As pleasure peppered through my senses, I felt on the dimmest edge of them, Cloud spilling himself within me.

And then the two of us tiredly collapsed to the bed, Cloud withdrawing and rolling at the last minute so as not to crush me. He might have been shorter, but Cloud had much more mass than I did. He was not a light man.

Breathing hard, I felt his sweat-sticky skin press against mine as the covers rumpled with the sound of him swiping his hand over the edge. Cloud nosed against my shoulder, pressing a kiss to my bare skin as I let the lingering pulls of orgasm trickle through him. It made my body tingle nicely.

"Should take a bath," he murmured against my ear, a warm puff of air accompanying the statement.

I made a noncommittal sound, recognizing the necessity of it. "Maybe later," I replied drowsily. Though the prospect of being clean was enticing, I had been thoroughly exhausted. Perhaps a short nap.

Cloud chuckled, his fingers dancing across the bare skin of my back, skating over scars he had grown so familiar with. "You're starting to sound like an old man."

"You're not much younger," I retorted, which was true enough. Cloud was aging more than I, but at least he was aging.

At sixty-one years old, he barely seemed twenty. In fact, he was still carded if we stopped at a bar, at least by those who didn't know his face. He and I didn't much stay in one location, choosing to wander Gaia to distract ourselves. It had quickly proven boring to stay confined to one home. Occasionally, we stopped to see his children and grandchildren. I always maintained a silent presence in the background.

His hand stopped, laying quiescent and warm. "True," he agreed drowsily, and lapsed into silence, his breath slowly evening. It appeared that he really intended to return to sleep, not that I minded. Though I would be a sticky mess when I woke later.

It was comfortable, I noticed. More than it had right to be. I wouldn't say that Cloud and I had settled into a routine, but we were familiar. We knew what to expect and left it at that. Not to say that we didn't argue, because Cloud was more stubborn than seemed logical at times and often it seemed like I was the only one to carry any common sense. But we got along, and I supposed that was all that mattered.

His breath puffed out in a slower rhythm against my bare cheek, and I considered rolling over for a cigarette. It had become usual for us, to share one after a romp in the sheets. And though I didn't crave the nicotine, I did crave that sense of closeness.

Leaning just a bit, Cloud awake enough to adjust to keep with me, I dropped out a hand and rifled around in the nightstand. Neither he nor I needed to worry about cancer. Whatever cocktail of things Hojo had pumped into us made that sort of death impossible. We were only waiting for our bodies to give out on us. At least Cloud was. He could still die. I worried that I couldn't.

The lighter flicked as I sucked in my first draft, lazily watching the smoke curl towards the ceiling. I idly tossed the lighter off the bed and it landed with a dull thump on a pile of discarded clothing.

Light streamed in from the blinds, spattering a lined pattern across the bed and our bodies. It seemed that it might be a good day. Hot and humid, but clear at least. Peaceful. Not that the world had been anything but. Oh sure there were the occasional minor skirmishes, but an all-out war hadn't occurred. For that, both Cloud and I were grateful.

A hand flopped onto my chest, holding up a hand expectantly. A smile curled at my lips. Not so asleep then.

I took a long drag and handed over the cigarette, watching as my spiky-haired lover lifted his head for a brief puff. There was something incredibly intimate about the sharing of a cigarette, though I couldn't explain exactly why. I watched his lips wrap around the butt of it, his cheeks hollow faintly as he sucked in the nicotine, and more smoke wandered to the ceiling, to be caught by the turning blades of the ceiling fan.

He caught me staring, and smirked. "See something you like?"

I grabbed the cigarette from him; it had been mine in the first place anyways. "Is it still Zack that inspires you to smoke?" I asked, and the question slipped from my lips before I could stop it. I hadn't even been thinking about it, but for some reason, that's what came to mind.

Cloud faltered for a moment, his expression slipping, before blue eyes centered on me once again. "Not anymore," he admitted, rising and tucking his elbows beneath his upper body, propping himself up.

"Is a few decades really long enough?" The question was for myself as much as him. I pulled the cigarette to my lips, eyes focused on the wall as I considered.

"Sometimes," Cloud said, and his head hung a little, his own eyes shifting to the side. "It makes things easier."

In that, I could almost agree. Passing time did not heal wounds, but it gave them time to scar over. The thin, reddened lines would fade. New flesh would spring, but beneath it, the marks would remind. Always reminding. I could never forget Lucrecia.

Cloud's cell phone rang, saving us both from the melancholy silence. Sighing heavily, he rolled away from me and dropped his arm over the side of the bed, rooting around for his PHS. I finished off my cigarette and turned to grind it out in the half-full ashtray.

"Hello?"

Curling up against the pillow, I contemplated a return to sleep as I eavesdropped on Cloud's end of the conversation. This early in the morning, a phone call could only mean one thing. Very bad news of a sort. In our case, that usually meant someone we knew had died. There were so few left, I wondered who it could be.

"Is that so? What do you want from me then?"

A pause.

"I'm no longer in that business." A longer pause this time. I could tell that Cloud was getting frustrated as he flopped onto his back, a low growl entering his tone.

"I'm finding myself hard pressed to care at all." He scowled as the person on the other line spoke once more and with an annoyed huff Cloud pulled the cell from his ears and ended the call. He didn't even bother with a goodbye.

I arched a brow. "Good news."

"In a way." Cloud tossed the phone to the floor where it hit with a clatter, the battery popping out the back and scattering. I didn't believe he cared too much as he scratched fingers down his chest. "Rufus died."

Ah, that explained the hostility then. Though why they thought to inform Cloud of his passing, I did not know. We were only loosely connected to ShinRa, bound by the ties Reeve had tried to create with the WRO and Rufus' aid. ShinRa's attempts to make amends for its past mistakes had not managed to completely erase the people's opinion. As a result, it had continued to lose its influence until nothing remained of the former empire but scattered dreams and failed ambition.

"Hmm," I murmured noncommittally, unabashedly raking my gaze over Cloud's nude form, feeling a stirring in my belly. "How?"

"Does it matter?" Cloud muttered, throwing his head back against the pillow and flattening his trademark spikes. Not even aging could lose their vitality.

I supposed that it didn't.

"And Tseng?"

He was the last of the Turks. Reno had disappeared some years back, vanishing not long after his partner had died in a bombing. Many suspected that he had shacked up in Costa del Sol with some woman. Rufus had allowed his desertion, further spelling ShinRa's doom. He had known that his legacy abandoned him. Perhaps he merely wanted his subordinates to seek their own future.

I could not say. I understood nothing of Rufus' thoughts. He never fully recovered from the Geostigma, forever confined to his wheelchair. And though a relatively attractive man, he was never seen with a female companion. To my knowledge, he bore no heirs. This truly was the end for ShinRa. And like Cloud, I wanted no part in the squabbling that was sure to occur in Rufus' absence.

Cloud shrugged. "No one knows. He vanished."

"It's probably for the best," I commented. Tseng deserved his freedom from ShinRa's chains as much as the others. There was nothing left for him after all. Not family, not friends, not companions, not Rufus.

It was almost pathetic, to see the once powerful ShinRa reduced to nothing but land and money to be bickered over. Not that I had any room for pity where ShinRa was concerned. My life, Cloud's life, all of the members of Avalanche. We had all been ruined by the ShinRa family and its same-named corporation. No, there was no such thing as pity in me for ShinRa.

Cloud snorted and rolled back over towards me, his hand flopping out across the bed and landing bare against my side. Fingers danced over my pale skin, tracing the shivers that coated my flesh. The call had made him frisky.

I licked my lips in anticipation, need coiling once more in my belly though by all accounts I should have been exhausted. I had attained my second wind, however, and rolled over, startling Cloud by my abrupt action and pinning him beneath me. Big blue eyes looked up at me, darkened with maturity but nonetheless beautiful.

"Not interested in Rufus' funeral I take it?" Cloud asked, a bit of a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips. All annoyance from the phone call flitted from his expression.

"Not a whit," I retorted, and leaned down, covering his lips with mine.

He did not protest.

**\---August 18, 2077--**

I stood and watched the tears streak down Cloud's cheek, unable to find the right words to chase them away. For once, rather than hiding at the back of the crowd, I found myself at the forefront of the funeral. Wrapped in layers of black, not unlike Cloud, I watched as he and I buried two of our dearest friends. They had once been children to us, and now, we had surpassed them.

It made little logical sense.

We should have been used to this, he and I, used to watching our friends wither away around us. Used to attending funerals and listening to the grief of those around us. To feeling our numbers dwindle, our companions becoming fewer and fewer. But it didn't get any easier with the passing years, not even for someone like me. It seemed like an incredibly cruel curse, one that we could not break.

In that moment, I was grateful for the relationship that Cloud and I shared. It had lasted the longest out of any I dared create, and though I never quite named it, or put emotion to what we had, it was something I never planned to lose either. He was as much a staple in my life as the Dirge of Cerberus or the memories that were most precious.

We weren't the last. Nanaki was a solid rock beside the both of us, his solemn expression as full of sorrow as Cloud's. I refrained from letting emotion show on my face. Sometimes, I believed that the years had drained it from me.

Almost a hundred years and then more. It was almost enough time to forget about Lucrecia. I wanted to haunt myself with thoughts of her, to keep clinging to memories of her and the guilt that I carry. But a hundred years was a long time. As time passed, so did the memories. I couldn't so much as remember Lucrecia's face anymore though sometimes I heard her laughter in my dreams, fuzzing around the edges.

I heard her talking to me, wondering how long I would hold to her memory. And sometimes, when I looked at Cloud, I knew he asked himself the same thing, for a love he could never admit aloud. Sometimes, we were too much alike.

A hand settled on my shoulder, and it was a credit to my control that I didn't startle in surprise. I lifted my head to find Cloud standing beside me, the look in his reddened, but dry eyes unreadable. He squeezed my shoulder. He had already turned from the graves and the sound of shovel striking through dirt floated to my ears. I must have missed what remained of the service.

"Thank you for coming," Cloud said as I turned to follow him, Nanaki walking on his other side. The three of us remaining.

First Reeve. And then Barret. Tifa. Cid. Yuffie. Shera some years back, finally rejoining her beloved captain. The Turks. The president of ShinRa, now a defunct company falling apart on the edges. And now Denzel and Marlene, the youngest of us.

I ignored Cloud's gratitude. It was no great capitulation for me. I had wanted to be here, to support him if nothing else. Cloud took each loss much harder than I, probably because he actually faced mortality where I did not. I had long resigned myself to the fact they would all be leaving me behind. Not that I didn't lament their passing, but I wasn't as close to the children as the others. Funny how I still regard them as children.

"We remain," I commented instead, burrowing my fingers into the deep pockets of my coat as a wind whipped, smelling of rain.

I tipped my head back, looking at gathering rain clouds, heavy and dark as they approached. The storm would be a nasty one. We would have to stay indoors tonight. No camping on the plains for us. I had no wish to wake up under a deluge.

I could feel Cloud's eyes on me. "Ironic, isn't it?" he asked, his feet crunching over fallen leaves. "Most people want immortality."

"I don't think anyone realizes how lonely that can be," I returned, breathing deep of the crisp air. In that moment, a raindrop chose to plop right onto my forehead. Cold and wet.

"Even with others, it is lonely," Nanaki agreed, and I knew he was thinking of Lycana, the female of his kind.

Lycana had been unable to come because her body was burdened with their young. The first child, or litter, or whatnot. Depending on how Nanaki wished to refer them. I knew that he had at least two within her swollen belly, perhaps more. The Sense materia was uncertain as to the absolute number.

I didn't want to remind both of them of the truth. That in all likelihood, I would be the one left alone in the end. Of Avalanche, only I would remain, wandering this green land like a ghost of the past. I had seen so much already. And I was so tired.

I wondered if that were my curse. If Hojo's final revenge against me had been this gift of immortality, now dooming me to a lifetime of evanescent relationships and associations. No matter who I allowed myself to get attached to, they would all leave me in the end. It was a pain time could not quench. I could not move on for it would only happen again.

Not to say that I regretted the time I spent with Reeve. Or the decades I had spent with Cloud, and likely more than that to come. But it was, as always, bittersweet.

We spent the rest in wordless silence, grief a powerful presence. Eventually, Nanaki wandered his own way with a parting, and standing invitation to visit him in Cosmo Canyon. Sometimes we took him up on it. But those times often turned melancholy, so they were few and far between. Besides, it was sickeningly sweet to get in between the marital bliss the two lion-wolves shared – or Iyatokan's as Nanaki had learned to call himself.

"You'd think I would have grown used to this by now," Cloud finally commented, once we were gone from the press of mourners and we had our dual solitude once more. "It's not like I didn't know it was coming."

I inclined my head. "That doesn't make it any easier," I murmured, thinking of my own emotions. I suffered along with Cloud with each loss. It was never easy to be reminded that soon, you would be alone entirely.

His eyes lifted to me, understanding echoing through me. "I know it's worse for you," he returned sympathetically, and his hand briefly grabbed mine, squeezing comfortingly before releasing it again.

I didn't have a response to that so I kept my silence, swallowing thickly. I let the quiet wash between us, long enough for Cloud to realize that I preferred the subject be dropped.

"What now?" I finally asked because Cloud did not deserve my cold shoulder. It was not his fault that being reminded of my own immortality was the greatest pain that could possibly be inflicted at the moment.

"I don't know. Gold Saucer?"

I dearly hoped he was joking. The theme park had only become larger over the years, spilling into the town of Corel and turning it into a satellite source of amusement. I had not ventured there since I had been forced into the establishment as a result of our journey all those years ago. Turning my head, I lifted a brow in question, red eyes warning.

A faint smile tugged at Cloud's lips. "You might have fun," he teased, but there was a lingering sadness in his tone.

 _'Help me forget_ ,' it seemed to say. And well, I understood just a bit. Frivolous. Loud and noisy. Expensive and packed with children and families. Bright and cheerful. Gold Saucer would be the last place either of us wished to go. And maybe, that was why we should dive into the madness. It wasn't as if we could get any crazier.

I sighed, knowing that I would regret my acquiescence. "As you wish."

The light briefly dancing in his eyes would later make the oppressive headache worth it.

**\--October 13, 2198--**

I held his hand when the last breath left him, easing peacefully out of his body. White hair was short and flat against his head, losing the battle against gravity over the passing years. But blue eyes had never lost their vitality. His skin remained soft beneath my fingertips, though wrinkled with age.

There must have been some cruel deity out there to take Cloud from me on the day of my birth, though I had long ceased celebrating it. More than two-hundred years later and my looks had not changed in the slightest, even while I stood by and watched Cloud age bit by bit, gradually losing his strength and his memory, watching him fall to pieces as he would forget and remember and grieve in endless cycles.

No one remained to grieve but myself and Nanaki. Cloud had his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren, his kin of course, but they simply didn't have the connection that Nanaki and I did. They understood his death, they realized it, but to them, Cloud Strife had died a long time ago. With Tifa.

I took care of the arrangements myself. Cloud's last wishes – before he began to lose his grip on reality – danced in the back of my mind. He had been firm and certain, and I had promised to the best of my ability to see them through to the end. For the peace and happiness he had given me for a short time, it was the least I could do.

I tried not to think about returning to a cold, solitary bed once more. I wondered why I continued to bother when I would be left alone all over again.

Nanaki aided me, standing by my side as the orange flames flickered over the aged shell that had become Cloud's body. I knew that Cloud was no longer there, that he had already moved on to the Lifestream, to be with Tifa again. And Aeris. Perhaps even Sephiroth, if the general had even been granted such peace.

I couldn't deny that watching the fire consume made something inside of me tighten in unnameable pain. Reeve had been a blink in the extent of my lifetime. He had been important to me, he had been a comfort and a presence. But Cloud had been so much more. He had been there. We had shared a common grief. He had lasted – for lack of a better word – longer than an instant. Cloud had become ingrained in me.

And now he was gone.

There was a pain inside of me, swelling with each passing moment. It felt like the grief over losing Lucrecia, only much more potent, much more gripping. It wasn't tainted by guilt and regret either, the agony soothed only by a lingering warmth. The feeling of our relationship, cultivated over the span of more than a century.

I was afraid to name it love. But perhaps it might have been that.

True to my word, I restrained from displaying any emotion as I gathered up the ash that remained of Cloud's human shell. I had two small urns with me, of a simple but classy design. Nanaki had brought them. One of the artists in Cosmo Canyon had spent hours at some kiln crafting the urns, making them bold and bright, strong with a curve that inspired a hint of something delicate. Fragile even. Much like Cloud.

I divided his ashes in half, one to each urn, as he had requested. I passed one to Nanaki, trusting the fire-wolf to bear it carefully and well. I had a journey to make.

Nanaki never spoke and for that I was grateful. I was not ready to confront the aftermath of Cloud's loss, even if I had recognized its eventuality. I did not want to admit that I was once again thrust into the world alone, unchanged for all the time that had passed. Even Nanaki had aged, his fur a darker, burnished crimson and his height reaching its pinnacle.

It wouldn't be long before I would be left entirely alone. And that thought caused some innards to twist, my lungs to clamp reflexively. My throat clamped and I hurriedly turned away from Nanaki, not wanting to reveal my weakness.

He watched my exit only long enough to see that I was truly leaving before he loped away, heading for Tifa's burial site. It would be there that he would leave one half of Cloud. And I had somewhere to deliver the other half of him. Divided, as his heart had always been.

That Cloud hadn't left something for me did not anger or upset me. I had what they did not, more of his time and presence. I knew that Cloud held some feelings for me, as I did for him, but were comrades as much as we were lovers. He knew as much as I did, that there were others that came first in our hearts. Others that we could never forget, no matter who followed. I did not lament it because I would not want to replace them.

It was strange. I had always considered solitude a blessing. I enjoyed the silence, surrounded by only my thoughts and my needs. I had never enjoyed crowds, I had never desired the closeness of others. Lucrecia had pierced that wall once before. And then Reeve and Cloud after. But always, I returned to the solitude.

For some reason, the thought of wallowing in loneliness no longer appealed to me. And I wished, once more, that this body of mine would allow death.

It took shorter time than I would have expected, crossing one landmass to the other, passing by cities that were once familiar, but had changed in the passing years. Expanding and shrinking, failing and succeeding. Towns springing up where there had been none, excavation into the planet's vast riches of precious metals and black oil. The earth overtaken by a thick layer of concrete, forests slashed and burned.

It had pained Cloud to see it as much as it had pained myself. As if the world and its citizens had learned nothing of ShinRa's downfall. My words mattered little against it, and so I saved my breath. I picked my battles, fighting only what my guns could defend. Monsters that grew in power, shifted in ferocity. The occasional foolish bandit who expected a man traveling alone to be easy pickings. It amused the demons.

I made it to the northern continent in record time and passed through the abandoned Bone Village. Places where they had dug pockmarked the ground and forgotten instruments of excavating lay rusted and crumbling. I didn't know what happened to the former, zealous residents of the village. Perhaps they merely faded with time, though two centuries was not that long.

The City of the Ancients was cold and silent, as I expected it to be. Some magical aura must keep random strangers from wandering to this place. Even all these years later, this land had not been repopulated. No town rebuilt on the crystal shore, no one bothered the snow-white trees and the shell-shaped homes of the Ancients. No one was there to disturb my silent trek.

He wanted to be with Aeris. That had been one of Cloud's final wishes. He wanted a part of him to lie with her, at the bottom of the crystal pool with the Holy material that had fallen with her. The both of them saving the world in that instant, even as they managed to crack Cloud's fragile heart. I understood the need for this. It was the same as my occasional pilgrimage to Lucrecia's cave, though my visits had grown so scarce in the passing years I almost believed I had forgotten its location.

The lateness of the season practically demanded a chill, yet I did not falter. My thick, dark cloak had served me well over the years, and even now it protected me against an ice-tinged wind. I stood resolute against the breath from the neighboring Icicle mountains, staring at water that had not changed for the passing centuries. Still crystal-clear, I could see to the bottom, to the very depths where a flower-girl who saved the world once upon a time still slept.

Of Aeris I could see nothing, of course. Her body was long gone. But her memory remained. There was a sense of her surrounding this solemn pool, and I could still see, in the back of my mind, the moment Sephiroth's blade had plunged through her body. Her gaze had been full of determination and peace, courage and perhaps even a small amount of fear. She had always been the strongest of us.

From the depths of my cloak emerged the small urn that contained the last I had of Cloud, other than the memories and the belongings we shared. My thumb smoothed over the elegant etching, the porcelain cool in my grasp. It occurred to me that I hadn't said my own goodbyes yet. Not really. I had been too busy taking care of the tasks he had left for me. It struck me that Cloud really was gone.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, I firmed my lips, stepped out of boots and shucked my heavy cloak. Urn in hand, I waded into the water, not as cool as I would have thought. In fact, it was vaguely tepid, as though warmed by some lower fire. I walked to the edge of the underwater shelf, just before the floor dipped into a deep trench that would require swimming. The same where Cloud had stood some two centuries before.

There was a selfish side of me that clung to the urn for just a moment longer than I had right. I knew that Cloud wasn't within it, and that he had since moved on. But a part of me was reluctant to release him. A part of me clung to our relationship, to the feelings that had only deepened with time.

How could I have let myself get so deep to what I knew would have to eventually end, leaving me alone once again? Where had my vaunted common sense been?

My fingers squeezed the urn and I forced myself to lighten my hold. He wasn't mine to keep. I knew this.

Closing my eyes, I released the urn to the water, and refused to watch it slowly sink. I heard the sounds of its descent, the pop-pop of a few bubbles and the distant noise of wind swishing through the trees. That was enough for me. I ignored the feeling of loss that clenched at my heart, trying to drag me down into the depths.

I headed for shore, the warmth of the water swirling around my body and giving me a vague sense of vertigo. It was autumn ushering towards winter; water shouldn't be this warm. Even in this place.

Nanaki had asked me where I planned to go from here. I hadn't had an answer for him. I still didn't. There was nothing left but to return to my wandering, to seeking some sort of answer. Maybe it was time I visited Lucrecia again, where she slept forever cocooned in crystallized Lifestream. But even that wouldn't hold me for long.

Tugging on my boots and returning the cloak to my shoulders didn't quite combat the chill that attacked me. It was childish, but I couldn't look over my shoulders. It felt too much like something was inside my heart, tearing it to pieces.

I didn't want to be alone again and ashamedly, I asked myself why the mako couldn't have lasted longer. Why Cloud couldn't have been built like me. But only for an instant, because as painful and torturous as Hojo's experiments had been, I wouldn't wish them on anyone else.

Cloud's absence from my life was suddenly that much more apparent.

I missed him already.

\-- **April 20, 2275--**

The skirmish was brutal. I smelled and tasted blood before I even heard the sounds of warfare, and as I drew closer, the ringing of blade against blade wandered to my ears. Curiosity compelled me to at least consider the situation, these eyes of mine having carefully categorized the shifting of humanity. The history of their actions. It was my only saving grace, to see the fruits of our labor. To see what became of those we risked our lives to save.

Monster against human, or what counted as beast in this day and age. Some of Hojo's experiments had escaped centuries before, and on their own, had multiplied and evolved, their intelligence making them deadly adversaries. Especially once they learned the effectiveness of bladed weapons, even if they couldn't fight on the same level as a human.

The man, for there was only one, seemed to be Wutaiian, though it was difficult to tell from a distance. He was grossly outnumbered, though he seemed to be faring pretty well for himself. More than a few corpses littered the ground, even as half-a-dozen more pressed towards him, hungry for blood.

I sighed to myself. I didn't really want to interfere, but I couldn't just walk away either. If he died, the guilt would weight on my conscious. I could just see the others scolding me if I did. Easier to expend a few shots.

I reached for the Winchester, really the only gun I would need. Taking out Dirge of Cerberus would be overkill. I prepared to fire, mentally planning a course of attack, when the bright flash of some sort of materia spilled across the plains. I blinked in surprise, strong fire pouring from the lone human's fingers and spraying over his opponents.

Materia. Not everyone could use it, and especially not the higher level materia. And if I wasn't mistaken, that was a Fire3. Pretty powerful for an average human to be using. Impressive.

Sliding down the steep incline on my boots, tearing up grass in my wake, I came to a halt at the bottom of the hill. The smoke cleared, giving me view of the battlefield. The solitary Wutaiian's opponents lay in smoldering heaps, and he stood over the last, blade buried in the beast's chest. He breathed heavily, chest heaving as he bled from multiple wounds.

His attractiveness did not escape me, despite the evidence of a rough skirmish. Long brown hair was swept back into a low ponytail to mid-back. Dancing brown eyes had narrowed in anger towards his opponent, and shifted to wary caution as he noticed my presence. Even more fascinating. Rarely could anyone detect my approach. My interest was piqued.

The boy – well, probably an adult, but at this point, pretty much everyone was boy to me – straightened, his hand dangling at his side. Blood dripped from his sword, making him appear threatening despite his vague attempt to do otherwise.

"Fire3?" I questioned by way of introduction, coming to a halt on the rim of the destruction and scattered bodies. "Impressive. Not many can accomplish that."

He scrubbed the back of one bare arm across the back of his face. "I had a good teacher," he answered, and his voice was low, husky.

He wore thick trousers, like the sort Cloud preferred during battle, and his sleeveless shirt didn't seem like much protection. But a silver bangle encircled one upper arm, and I recognized the make of it. Pretty powerful for a random stranger. There were only two of those in existence and as far as I knew, we – as in Avalanche – held the monopoly.

I arched a brow. "Oh?" I asked, willing him to elaborate.

With a skillful twirl of my fingers, Winchester was returned to his cradle. I would have no need of the weapon. I was sure my hand-to-hand skills were more than sufficient should this child prove to be an enemy.

He stepped closer, his movements languid and purposeful as he navigated around corpses, sword still dangling at his side. "I doubt you've heard of him," he commented, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Cheeky little bastard. Were it not for my curiosity, I would turn and leave. But I had to admit I wanted to know why he were capable of such destruction. A part of me wanted to make sure no mad scientists with god complexes and delusions of grandeur were part of the equation.

"Try me."

He stopped just before me and stuck out his hand, remarkably uncovered in blood. "Shion Kisaragi," he said by way of answer, and it was only then that I noticed he rivaled me in height, perhaps even a bit taller. "And I already know who you are."

I looked at his hand and lifted by eyes back to his face. Kisaragi? It was a pretty common surname in Wutai but his manner, his ability to wield materia, it was all pointing to a very potentially annoying situation. And if he already knew who I was...

"Kisaragi?" I repeated, feeling the urge to back away slowly even as I mentally tallied my materia. Luckily, I had nothing of value, though I wasn't too keen on losing any of it.

His smirk widened, brown eyes practically laughing at me as he retracted his hand and dragged it through his hair. "Correct. And you are Vincent Valentine. My grandmother tells me stories about you."

That pretty much nailed it right there. Of all the luck I had to stumble upon one of Yuffie's kinfolk. No doubt directly descended from her somewhere in there. Though it had been more than two centuries since Yuffie had died.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" I asked, 'here' being defined as the vast plans beyond the Chocobo Ranch, close to Kalm but still far from civilization. I was just wandering, but I wondered at his excuse.

Shion shrugged and dragged out a cleaning cloth, wiping down his blade. "Nothing in particular. Just a little adventure." A skilled flip of his wrist and the sword returned to its scabbard. An odd weapon choice for a ninja. I said as much.

He looked at me oddly. "Ninjas are dying breeds. Have you not been to Wutai lately? Like say the past few decades or something?"

Admittedly, I had not. With Yuffie gone, there was no reason to venture to that side of the world. I mostly kept to the two main continents, lingering nearest to Cosmo Canyon when I sought the company of intelligent life.

Well, now that my curiosity was sated, and with the knowledge that a potential materia-thief was in reaching distance, I decided it was time to take leave. "I can see that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself," I responded, and turned away, intent on my original destination. "Enjoy your adventure."

I thought it a graceful exit. Apparently, Shion's fascination with me had not ended. I heard his footsteps following after me, like a dog trailing its master.

"To be honest, I haven't found much of it yet," he stated, jogging to catch up to my swift pace. "You wouldn't happen to have any suggestions would you?"

"Not around here," I muttered, and wondered how I could lose my unwanted tag-a-long. He couldn't have been more than twenty, if that. What fascination was there in a tired old man like myself?

Shion laughed, a loud and almost infectious noise. "I figured that much. Where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

It was the truth. I had no real destination in mind. I simply wandered. Occasionally I would take up residence in one of the cities, new and old, for a while. But once it became obvious I wasn't aging at all – around fifteen years or so – I left for my own sake. I didn't want to hear the outcries. There were none who knew who I was anymore, other than Nanaki. And apparently Shion. I preferred the anonymity.

"Nowhere sounds pretty interesting to me."

I stopped mid-stride and whirled towards Shion who yes, was definitely taller than me. It was mildly disconcerting to have to look _up_ to someone. I hadn't had to do that since before Barret died. And for Shion to be Wutaiian, his height was even more fascinating. Then again, part of me was too and I had a good deal of height on me.

"I don't recall inviting you," I stated, drawing myself up straight and effecting a stern look. Combined with my scarlet eyes, I could be quite intimidating when need be.

Shion barely blinked. "We're going the same direction. So it's not like I'm following you or anything." His lips pulled into a grin. "At least, not yet."

And that smirk right there was entirely Yuffie. It seemed some things did get passed down generation after generation.

I supposed that it was easy enough for me to transform and flee Shion, but that would be running away and I was loathe to admit his effect on me. And a part of me that yearned for human contact wanted to latch onto this seemingly fearless kid. It took a pretty courageous man to not flinch in my presence. That or a considerably stupid one. I couldn't tell which Shion was yet. He was Yuffie's relative after all.

I sighed. "Do as you will," I muttered, and began walking once more, keeping the sun to my back and away from the scent of death and ash.

Shion just grinned all the wider and folded his arms behind his head, easily matching my steady pace. "I plan to. You're quite fascinating, Valentine."

I grunted, and wondered if my acquiescence in this instance was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**\--December 21, 2346--**

"What was she like?"

The question rippled through the comfortable silence and I stirred from where I had sunk into a faint stupor. Heat always made my body feel languorous and sleepy.

"Who?"

"My kin, Yuffie. She and all the members of Avalanche," Shion clarified, springs squeaking as he drew a woven blanket further over his shoulders. "I mean, I've heard all the stories, but I want to know what they were really like."

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, my eyes captivated by the dancing fake flames in the fake hearth. A cup of coffee warmed one hand, and I had long since kicked off my boots for the sake of comfort. It was a quiet, soft winter evening, snow falling in steady sheets beyond our window. The holidays were just around the corner.

And in the seat next to me, Shion watched the same vista, his aged face so startling when I could remember his youth so clearly. Here I sat, unchanged for all the centuries that had passed. My clothes had been upgraded to match the times, as had my weaponry, but for all that, I remained the same. My curse in full bloom.

My fingers, smooth now that I rarely found reason to lift a gun, rapped against the arm of the chair. "Yuffie was... annoying," I answered, and let a smile tug at the corners of my lips as Shion snorted in amusement. "But she was also brave, and very much determined. As the youngest of us, she rivaled only Cloud for recklessness."

"Cloud... he was the leader, right?"

My heart gave a careful pang at the reminder of my past lover, but I hid it well beneath my mask. "I suppose. Barret was initially the man behind Avalanche, but it was Cloud we followed." For all his insanity, personality disorders, and propensity for lies, it had always been Cloud we put our faith behind.

"And Barret was the loud guy with the spear?"

I shook my head. "No, that was Cid," I corrected, though I could see how he would get confused.

Both Barret and Cid were loud when they wanted to be. Especially when they had disagreed on something. Equally stubborn and foul. And it had always been Tifa to mediate them. Not that I blamed either male. Tifa's fists were quite fierce, and she used them whenever necessary.

Heat washed against my face and exposed skin, and I relished in the normalcy of it. "Barret was the eldest of us, though occasionally he acted more of a child than Yuffie. His hatred for ShinRa was greater than any of us. He was a good man. Brash and loud, but a good man."

"And Cid?"

I cut my eyes at Shion, wondering what had brought on this sudden flurry of questions. "Why the curiosity?"

His brown eyes gleamed. "Because they matter to you," Shion answered honestly, and sometimes, his outright frankness really bothered me, throwing me for a constant loop. "I want to know the people that you miss."

Silly child. And yes, I still considered Shion a child. I would until the day he died, leaving me like all the others. He was like a burr or a barnacle. No matter how much I shook him, or pried him away, or sifted into the shadows, he always appeared at my side again. I was resigned to his presence. And I admit, the loneliness eased because of him.

I sighed and tugged my gaze back to the fire. It was safer that way. I didn't want Shion to see the emotions that recalling the past brought up within me. Bittersweet happiness. I could admit that much to myself now. I had been happy then, even if I didn't show it like others would.

"Cid was my best friend," I admitted quietly. "He was a loyal man, loud much like Barret, but with a keen understanding of things. Not just engineering but people as well. He had an eerie way of looking through you, much like Aeris."

I had lost count over the years of how many times Cid had noticed something about myself that I hadn't wanted anyone to see. I could always count on Cid to be honest with me.

"Aeris?" Shion prompted, shifting around in his easy chair with a squeak of aging springs.

I sighed softly, closing my eyes in remembrance. "She died protecting all of us from Sephiroth and his insane attempt to destroy the planet. She was... our light, I guess you could say. Wise for her age, if not a little naïve at times. Nothing but a flower girl from the slums to hear her say it, but we always knew she was a little something more."

"Did you love her?"

I chuckled a little at that. I knew what Shion meant to ask. I admit my tone probably had sounded a bit like that of a lover left behind. But it couldn't be defined so simply. Where for so long I felt like little more than a monster, Aeris had always looked at me as something human. And for that I had always been grateful.

I shook my head. "We all did. Cloud, I think, loved her the most, and her death nearly broke him."

I said nearly only because the rest of us managed to hold him together somehow. Or should I say, Tifa had the largest hand in that. She refused to let him drown in his guilt and despair. Cloud, who never quite knew just who to love, who to allow his heart to yearn for. I often wondered myself how it must have felt to watch his first love callously murder someone he had finally opened his heart to. Or perhaps those feelings were what remained of Zack. It was never easy to tell with Cloud.

It took me several minutes to realize Shion had yet to comment, or prompt me to continue my tale. Peeling open my eyes, I glanced his direction. He hadn't moved.

"Shion?"

A snore was his response, and I smiled to myself. He had fallen asleep in the middle of my story, just like an old man. He would probably wake later, demanding to know the rest. I wondered if he would ever understand just how grateful I was for his friendship.

Rising to my feet, I pulled a blanket down over his thinning frame and tucked it around him. It wouldn't do for him to catch cold. Watching his aged face slack with sleep for a moment, I turned and quietly left the room, managing to not make a sound. One never forgot their Turk training, not even after centuries.

The reminiscing had done me well. It was strange how I could remember them so fondly now, recalling all the past that had helped to heal me. I missed them terribly, and a part of me wished I hadn't worked so hard to keep them at a distance. Wished that I had let them in just a little bit more.

Kami, how I missed them.

**\--May 16, 2347--**

Knowing that Shion's death was coming did not make accepting it any easier. I had grown attached to the brash youngster, Shion firmly implanting himself into one of the many cracks in my heart. And he had been utterly human. I asked myself why I bothered to try.

I had returned to the back of the throng once more, very few knowing about our relationship. We were friends, not lovers, though some had speculated the latter. Nanaki had hinted time and time again that I could push for more, but I never took it further than the companionship Shion offered me. It was like being with Avalanche sometimes, combining Yuffie's thievery with Cloud's sullen disquiet and Cid's gruff dismissals. His presence had eased the loneliness, if only for a while.

Now, it had returned full force.

Shion's death prompted an immediate return to Wutai for me, a place I hadn't touched boot or claw in since Yuffie's death. The country had changed so much, barely resembling the memories of my youth, or even those of chasing Yuffie through the main city in order to regain our stolen materia. The traditional buildings and designs had all but vanished, replaced by a more modern, technical atmosphere. I felt distinctly uncomfortable there, as I often did when Shion talked about something I only vaguely understood.

I felt so out of my element that even the crowds of people disturbed me. The world was changing, and I slowly with it, but I still felt locked in centuries before. In fact, I missed centuries before and all that came with it. I wanted nothing more than to fade into obscurity.

I endured only because Shion would have appreciated the effort.

No one from his family would know who I was. I had made certain to keep it that way. I didn't need that many people knowing of my existence. I waited until the main services had been completed before I paid my respects, standing alone before the crypt that housed his body, along with his ancestors before him. The thin scent of incense had yet to be carried away by the wind and was strong in the air.

I had nothing to leave for Shion, nothing that he would have anticipated. He had been a dear friend. But like everyone else, evanescent in my life. Why I had allowed such a brief acquaintance, I'll never understand. It shouldn't hurt this much. But it did. I kept thinking that it would get easier. And all I was doing was lying to myself.

I hadn't been there when Shion passed. Not with his family crowding around him. His brothers and sisters, his wife and his children. He hadn't been alone, contrary to popular belief. He was known for his pilgrimages, for his disappearing on adventures, and those were the times he spent trailing along after me. I still didn't understand why Nanaki tried to hint that there was more between us.

Sometimes, I had wished there were, if only to ease the brief pangs of loneliness. But then I reminded myself that he was Yuffie's kin and it was a good idea not to get involved in that sort of mess.

"Vincent Valentine?"

At the sound of my name, spoken softly and in a decidedly feminine voice, I turned slowly, surprised that anyone would know me. I was treated to the sight of a young woman, probably barely in her teens, dressed in a pretty floral print kimono. Something in her eyes reminded me of Shion, and my every instinct screamed Kisaragi. Unconsciously, I double-checked my materia.

I inclined my head. "And you are?"

Nervously clutching something in her delicate hands, she looked up at me, a pretty decent task considering her short stature. "You know my grandfather, Shion. Or at least, that's what he always told me."

I scowled inwardly. I had thought Shion enough sense to not talk about me, but I supposed that was giving him too much credit. He had always been a loudmouth.

This must have been Kaede then, Shion's youngest granddaughter. She looked a lot like her mother, and not much like Shion. Except for those eyes. Open and frank, with a hint of mischief. A Kisaragi trait, I imagined.

"I did," I returned quietly, shifting a bit in place. I wondered what she was doing here, why she had spoken to me. I thought I had avoided Shion's family. "He was a good man."

"So are you," she responded, and there was something about her childlike frankness that bothered me.

I flickered my gaze around, but there was no one to save me from Kaede's presence. And it was rude to simply wander away. My mother had raised me better than that. I resigned myself to sticking around and seeing what she wanted.

My fingers twitched with an urge for an cigarette, something I hadn't bothered with since Cloud died. Perhaps it was just the restless urge within me to fidget.

"Was there something you wanted?" I asked, trying and failing not to be impolite. I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable around someone who wasn't supposed to be aware of my existence.

Kaede's eyes lifted to mine again and I watched as she stroked her fingers over a small box before suddenly thrusting it my direction. "Grandfather meant for you to have this."

I was reluctant to take the item, but there was a Kisaragi set to Kaede's jaw that implied she wouldn't let me leave without it. Biting back a sigh, I reached out and took the small wooden box, a clever design burnt into the polished lid. I unconsciously stroked a finger across the symbol, feeling each ridge in the otherwise smooth wood.

I both did and didn't want to open the box. That fool. Leaving me something as if it would make up for his passing.

"Grandfather was really happy about your friendship," Kaede continued softly, her voice lowering as though realizing the emotions that keep striking at my heart. "He wanted you to know that."

I swallowed thickly, over a lump that had suddenly taken residence in my throat. "He was a good friend," I commented myself, and my fingers stroked over the wood again.

It was light, almost too light. It couldn't have held anything of monetary worth, and Shion was one of the least sentimental people I had ever met. What could it be? What would he think to leave to me and why hadn't he said anything before?

Kaede bowed shallowly to me on the edge of my vision, her soft curls falling into her face. "Please be happy, Mr. Valentine. That is what Grandpa would have wanted."

I would have snorted at the very idea of it, but it seemed rude so I kept my opinion to myself. Instead, I watched as she turned and gracefully walked away, so mature for her age. But then, it seemed like adulthood was descending sooner and sooner on the young ones these days. Sometimes, I wished Yuffie had attained a bit of that rather quicker.

I turned back towards the crypt, casting my gaze over it once more, before choosing to walk away. I had a hotel room waiting for me before I made the long journey back to the mainland. I had no desires to stay in this unfamiliar Wutai. The country had never felt like home to me before, and it certainly didn't now. I had a sudden urge to visit Nanaki.

As I walked, I thumbed the latch on the box open and closed several times, listening to it snap into place with a light snick. I felt a little foolish, nervous over opening this small box. I ignored the press of the crowd around me and finally flipped the lid open with my thumb, curiosity overriding everything else.

I couldn't see what it was immediately as it was wrapped in a small cloth bag, black and drawn tightly by thin strings. Tucking the box into an inner pocket, I opened up the bag and tipped the light item into my hand. It fell slightly chilly against my palm as I came to a sudden halt in the middle of the walkway, staring at the object.

Despite not needing to, I did it anyways. Carefully thumbing open the thin metal latch that bound the item, I gently opened it from its scrunched shape. A small fan, delicately painted, like those that high-class Wutaiian ladies carry around. They are decorative more than useful and it would have seemed a strange gift to give a man, if I didn't recognize it on sight.

The elegant drawing on the thin paper was of Carbuncle, a long lost summon from a supposedly broken materia in Wutaiian legend. And of all the summons, the cutesy god happened to be Yuffie's favorite. Though you had to get her drunk to make her admit it. The design was simple and it happened to be Yuffie's precious possession. I had admired it once, a long time ago, when I saw it in Shion's home. Apparently, the brat had never forgotten.

I swallowed again, past a lump that just wouldn't shrink, feeling the fan shake in my hands. People bumped into me, looking annoyed that I happened to be standing in their busy-busy way. I couldn't find it in me to care.

That brat. It was all I could think. Making me sentimental like this. I carefully folded the fan safely back, letting my fingers close around it.

With a sigh, I looked up at the sky. And said a silent thank you. I could just hear Shion smirking at me, as strange as that sounded. He was just the type. I should have known.

It was just like him to ensure I would never forget.

**\-- October 13, 2559 --**

I was beginning to think of my day of birth as being cursed. It had the nasty propensity to steal things from me, things I wasn't ready to abandon.

Nanaki was dying. My only relief was that it was only old age to claim him, and nothing more painful.

I sat beside him where he lay curled up next to a roaring fire, the only thing to warm his old bones, or so he claimed. One hand lay in his distinguished silver fur, only the occasional red hair or so peeking amongst the snowy strands. He still retained the bulk of his youth, but age was in every movement. Every creaking limb and laborious breath.

I fought the urge to curse some unnamed deity. That would be foolish of me. I knew this day would come. I had thought myself prepared for it. Apparently, I was mistaken. He was the last of my dear friends, my only link to the Vincent I had been during the battle against Sephiroth twice-over.

Nanaki stirred beneath me, and my fingers unconsciously carded through his aged fur once more. "Vincent?"

"I am here," I said softly, the heat of the fire wafting against my face and exposed skin. It didn't quite help the chill that had stolen over my body.

His responding chuckle was tired. "I know this. I did not doubt you." Nanaki sighed softly, and stretched out his limbs quickly, his heartbeat a slowing pulse beneath my palm. "My end is nearing, Vincent, no matter how much I wish to cling to this life of mine."

"You have lived long, my friend," I said even quieter, the words echoing with truth inside myself. "You deserve this peace."

"As do you." I felt those golden eyes on me as Nanaki peeled them open, watching me intently. "It sounds strange to say that I wish you could join me."

"Fate is not so kind," I muttered, and I couldn't help the bitterness.

Here I was, hale and vibrant – for lack of a better word – and there he was, grey and weak, bones creaking and eyes rheumy. Nanaki was the very picture of old age against my apparent youth, and I hated it. He would never know how much I longed to be old and grey like he.

His next breath shuddered through his body and his tail flicked, the fire lighting the tip barely the size of a lit match. It was a sign. Nanaki had told me when it first began to dim a month ago, that his life was also extinguishing. When the fire faded, so would he.

"If I could stay--"

"--stop," I inserted before he could even finish his statement, knowing what emotional drivel and impossible promises were sure to spill from his mouth. "You think I would wish it on another?"

His eyes closed again, so very tired. I sympathized. "You are kinder than you have ever given yourself credit."

I scoffed, but it was half-hearted, and tried to change the subject. "You do not want your family here?"

"They do not understand as much as you. They do not need me as you do."

I wanted to scoff at the thought of myself needing Nanaki, but I knew it was utter truth. My fingers twitched in his fur again, and I realized that I had stopped my soothing petting. I picked up the rhythm once more, the mindless task somehow easing my pain as well.

I hesitated before my next words left me, unwilling to voice my weakness but doing so anyways. "You will greet them for me, won't you?"

I felt Nanaki's body give a slight hitch beneath my touch, a struggle to draw the next breath. "Of course... I will. They are waiting, I know." His tail flickered.

I knew it as well. Little did all of them know but I longed for them as well. I longed with such passion that it surprised even myself.

I couldn't say to Nanaki what I really wanted to say. How I wanted to plead desperately with him to stay. That he couldn't go because he was all I had left in the world that connected me to reality. That he was the last that remained of my sanity and my heart.

I wanted to cry and rage, but instead, I kept my silent facade, feeling my fingers tremble. I was grateful that the shaking of Nanaki's own body kept him from noticing my own unsteady touch.

My eyes glued to his tail, where the fire grew softer and softer, barely a spot of orange in the dim of the room. And with its dimming light, my hopes gradually faded as well.

"Life does not go on forever, Vincent," Nanaki murmured, so soft that I had to lean closer to hear him. My heart thudded in my chest at the obvious proof of his fading life. "Even stars have an eventual end. You will, too."

My lips tipped into a half-hearted smile. "You are dying. It is I who should be comforting you."

Nanaki's chuckle was even softer than before. "Nothing is ever as expected when it comes to you," he murmured. "You have been a good friend."

"And you."

I recognized those kinds of words, the sort said in the final moments. My eyes flickered to Nanaki's tail, where the flame was little more than a firefly's glow. I drew my lower lip into my mouth, biting down on it. I refused to weep. I _refused._

"Nanaki..."

"It's okay," he said on the end of a long sigh, and beneath my fingertips, his heart – once strong and vibrant – slowed.

A beat. Another beat. And then abrupt silence and stillness. I tasted blood as I bit down on my lower lip, fingers unconsciously tightening in their grip on Nanaki's fur. The fire was gone now, the tip of his tail lying lifeless against the floor.

Nanaki was gone.

I shuttered my eyes closed, trying to gain grip of my flickering emotions. My body curled over of its own accord, my fingers refusing to relinquish their hold on Nanaki. I knew that he was gone, that there was nothing within his shell. Yet, I could not seem to let go.

The grief overwhelmed me, for now I was truly alone.

I did not attend Nanaki's funeral because the Iyatokan's had their own way of doing things. Despite my connections to Nanaki and our long-standing history together, it was something I had no business participating in. According to them anyways. I didn't mind so terribly as I had already said my goodbyes.

I wandered into the night, having lost anywhere that I could belong. Where would I go? What would I do? That I did not know.

**\-- November 17, 2559 --**

In the end, I chose the place for my death at random. I was tired, so very tired, and there was no one who remembered me anymore. All of the others had passed. I wanted to join them, to see Lucrecia again. The fatigue that surrounded me had settled into my very bones and I trudged through a world I no longer knew. I wanted it to end.

It was quiet here, monsters nowhere in sight or hearing. Perhaps they registered my intent for death and didn't bother attacking. Perhaps they sensed the demons within me, just as sullen by my existence as I.

I had no belongings, so there was nothing to leave behind. The only thing of importance to me were my weapons and I would not need them in the afterlife. I could think of no one I knew well enough to leave them to so with me they would stay.

A wind rose, stirring falling leaves in the crisp coolness. I leaned against a tree, back against the hard wood, and felt a calm unlike anything I had ever known flow through me. Even when I drew the Dirge of Cerberus and pulled the powerful gun into my lap, my nerves did not turn raw. I was more than ready for this.

Countless monster attacks and close calls had given me a good bit of information. I was convinced that nothing short of absolute beheading would kill me, or in this case, splattering my brains all over the woods with the force of the Dirge of Cerberus. My body would be lucky to have a neck, much less anything of my skull remaining.

I thought of my companions as I let the vibrations of my final moments settle around me. I thought of my lovers and my friends; I thought of Lucrecia in her quiet prison. I thought of those that I could not save and the guilt that had grown less heavy over the years. Not even I could cling to my demons for greater than five centuries.

They waited for me, of this I was certain. In that sea of bright green and tangled white, an endless stream of consciousness, all of my friends waited. Those that I had loved, my family whom I hadn't thought of in centuries. Everyone waited, and I was so very tired.

I didn't consider my decision anything like giving up. I didn't consider it cowardice, or running away. I supposed many others would look at it and scoff, but they simply wouldn't be able to understand. After five centuries, I had lived my life about five times over. Enough was enough.

It amazed me how calm I was. My heart hadn't changed its rhythm, my breathing remained even. I didn't tremble or shake; I didn't even break into a cold sweat. I only felt this overwhelming calm, a great sense of relief. A sense of peace.

I was going to do this.

Leaning against the tree, I sucked in a slow breath and let it out again. I closed my eyes, and let their faces pass through my mind. As I best remembered them, young and vibrant. Remembering scenes of the past, when I felt most alive. I clung to them.

I didn't need to see to position Dirge of Cerberus perfectly. In the back of my mind, the demons grumbled in annoyance, but they had no say in the matter. They were nothing more than unwelcome inhabitants, pests... parasites. My continued existence was their fault, and I admitted to myself that the chance to do this without your consent felt just a bit like revenge.

Strange, how at the end of my life, the future could look so much more brighter. If one even wanted to call the afterlife a future.

I curled my fingers around the Dirge of Cerberus, listened to the wind rushing through the trees, and placed my finger on the trigger. The metal was cool and smooth beneath my touch, worn with use and familiarity.

I held my breath, and the sound of the shot much have echoed around the forest. As for me, I never heard it.

**\-- November 19, 2559 --**

I woke weeping, a great sense of failure racking my entire frame. Sunlight cast down on my newly formed face, a sense of death in the air, but not mine. No, Hojo had cursed me well. The tree that had served as my backrest was gone, little more than a spray of splinters behind me. Some blood still painted the wood.

I reached up, felt the length of dark hair over my newly formed skull. I couldn't remember the pain, and my thoughts were a little fuzzy. I was certain with time they would return to the clarity I'd had before.

I couldn't stop the tears. They trekked silently down my face as I stared into nothingness, lamenting my inability to end this life.

I hadn't cried when any of my companions passed. I hadn't wept for my own fate before, but I couldn't stop the tears now. They trickled down my cheeks before I could stop them as I unconsciously shoved the Dirge of Cerberus away from me and raked furious hands through my new hair.

The demons laughed in the back of my mind, taunting me for my failure. There was no escape, they seemed to say, their mockery loud and clear.

A flurry of emotions, more than I could identify, swelled within me. Relief was not among them. I was furious, at myself and at Hojo. I was grieving because I was once again alone, with no chance for the pain to ease in sight.

How long, I wondered. How long would this life of mine torture me? Until the end of the world? Was such a thing even possible? Had what I done been considered so terrible that I should be cursed like this?

The pain that stabbed at my heart was practically physical, a vicious rending that had my body doubling over as I struggled to breathe. Why wouldn't it just end?

I wanted to scream and shout, but there was no one to direct my fury. Hojo was long dead. Everyone I had ever known was gone. The world was changing around me, no longer recognizable as my home. And all I had left in the world were the vicious creatures that consistently hovered in the back of my skull.

Time passed as I sat in the forest, my face drying sticky with the salt of tears. Too depressed to move, I stared at the surrounding vegetation and contemplated my existence. I was hard-pressed to call it a life. Once again, I was left without any idea what to do with myself.

Time passed, and continued to drag me along with it.

***


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time passes rather quickly from here on out. I take liberties with geology and some elements of science and logic that we come to know as rational in this world. It happens on a much faster scale here on Gaia, and my reason for that? Well, Gaia has the Lifestream and magic, no doubt its geological processes are different than ours.

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**\-- February 12, 3124 --**

I fought against the shiver that attacked my thin frame and yanked open the door to the bar, heat washing over me. Along with the ripe odor of copious amounts of alcohol, cleaning solution, and frying foods. I grimaced at the sudden influx of sensation, but stepped into the tavern anyways, letting the door slam shut behind me. No one looked up at my entrance, not that I expected anyone to.

I hovered in the door for a moment, knocking my boots against the ground to clear out the snow and ice that had accumulated within them. I brushed a layer of snow from my shoulders. Winters had grown harsher over the years, I noticed. Heavier with precipitation and undeniably cold. As if to further remind me that the world was changing around me, more and more each year.

I didn't even have a single moment to relax before a body went flying by me, slamming into the second door and crashing through it. I watched impassively as he tumbled into the sidewalk, sliding across snow and ice with a dull thump, a spray of wood accompanying his tumble. A bar fight. _Wonderful._

I contemplated turning back around and looking for the next place to find food and shelter, when my attention was snagged by the growing altercation. Chairs pushed across the floor with noisy squeaks as some the patrons rose to their feet. The rest remained sitting, ignoring the possible confrontation as they focused on their number one interest – beer. And all of the half-dozen angry, inebriated men had gathered around a single opponent.

A woman.

My eyes narrowed. She was a small thing, no bigger than Yuffie had been when we started our fight against Sephiroth all those years ago. But her squared shoulders and defiant stare gave the illusion of someone much bigger. There was every possibility that she could take care of herself. That like Yuffie, foes such as these were a piece of cake, a quick twist of a shuriken and a foolhardy grin.

But these were also a half-dozen _drunken_ men, mechanics and builders and carpenters by the look of them, and they didn't look too happy that their buddy had broken the door to their favorite bar, courtesy of aforementioned female. At least, I assumed that was what had occurred. Since I hadn't witnessed it, I could only go by the evidence.

"You stuuupiiid, bitch," one man slurred, unsteady on his feet as he grabbed for the nearest weapon which happened to be a chair. Or maybe it was intended to be a cane as his balance was quite nonexistent.

Her chin, a rather elegant and attractive chin I belatedly noticed, tilted upwards. "He deserved it," she said in return, her voice made of hardened steel. Pale blue eyes, a shade away from the sky in Cid's, glittered as though daring her foes to attack.

One of the men growled. An incoherent sound of drunken rage. He didn't wait for his buddies to join the fight, instead barreling forward with all the grace of a rampaging Skee-Skee. I stepped out of the doorway, watching with interest, fingering the Winchester strapped to my thigh and hidden beneath my cloak.

The woman stood her ground, her curls bouncy as they drizzled over her shoulders. There was an imperceptible narrowing of her eyes before she grabbed the charging rhino by the horn – or arm as it were – and casually tossed him over her shoulder. He crashed into a table behind her, leaving it nothing but splinters and managing to infuriate the occupants of said table – all five of them.

They, too, leapt to their feet, none too pleased to have their alcohol lying in a messy splatter on the floor rather than in their mouths where it belonged. Mutters of discontent rippled through the bar. And some of the patrons were subtly making their way to the exit. The bartender had long since vanished with the sort of understanding that someone in his position had learned to cultivate.

I began to suspect that this was more than she could handle. Fingering Winchester and dismissing the gun in an instant, I assumed a few hand-to-hand Turk moves would be enough to dismiss half of the opponents. I stepped forward just as several of the men decided now would be the perfect time to attack.

"Ten against one are unfair odds," I said without raising my voice. Somehow, the words were loud enough to be picked up by everyone, effectively announcing my presence.

One man snorted. The woman's eyes flickered towards me, holding an edge of contempt perhaps? Another man laughed.

And all hell broke loose. Or at least, that was the best I could describe it as. Someone vaulted drunkenly over a table towards me as another made a beeline for the lone female.

I easily incapacitated my opponent by twisting his arm behind his back and breaking his shoulder. He howled in pain as I sent him tumbling to the floor with a palm press to the back. Pfft. I wouldn't even need Winchester or any of my guns for this. Pitiful.

Just as I turned, thinking to face another opponent, one of the drunken sots went flying past me, crashing through a window and letting in a surge of frigid air. Glass shattered, bathing the floor with sharp slivers. I arched an impressed brow. She was certainly a feisty one.

"Watch out!"

Something snatched my arm and pulled me a good three feet to the left and only my enhanced balance kept me from tumbling to the ground. I narrowly missed getting pummeled in the head by a wooden chair. Not that it would have killed me. And not that my rescuer could have possibly known that.

"Wow, you're really not aware of your surroundings, are you?" the unnamed woman asked brightly, her fingers unnaturally warm on my arm.

I blinked. "And you seem to have no problem being in this situation," I returned bluntly, because yes, it was a bit of a wound to my pride that I hadn't sensed the attack coming.

My battle senses were becoming disgustingly weak lately. I would have to amend that. Or perhaps they just weren't attuned to "drunken idiot violence". Either way, this would have to be rectified. Even if I could not die, it was better to avoid the greater hurts. Just because I seemed incapable of dying, did not mean that the attacks didn't hurt. I felt pain just like any other person, and sometimes, I daresay that I experienced it worse.

"Happens all the time," she said cheekily and her eyes widened briefly before she ducked backwards, her grip on my arm dragging me along with her.

I stumbled, she laughed, and an inebriated brute tumbled past her. She stuck out a foot, he tripped on her boot and hit the ground.

A grumble of discontent rumbled through the remaining patrons of the bar, no doubt friends to the drunken sots. More chairs squeaked as drinks were abandoned in the interest of violence. In the back of my mind, the demons practically salivated. At last something interesting!

I instantly regretted involving myself in this nonsense. Why had I decided to become concerned when my attitude as of late could best be described as laissez-faire? And to think, all I had wanted was a stiff drink – preferably something to chase the lingering chill from my bones.

Instead, I got this.

 _This_ being the gathered anger of a two dozen drunken men hell bent on revenge against a single woman and the man foolish enough to think she might have needed some kind of help. Curse the hero instinct that AVALANCHE had ingrained so thoroughly in me.

Beside me, she took a step backwards with her single foot sliding across the floor, a bare whisper of sound. "Tell me you're a high-ranking soldier or a secret government assassin or even better a _ninja_ behind that pretty face."

While at one time I had been both of the aforementioned two, I was neither now. And I had certainly never been a ninja or related to one Yuffie Kisaragi. Thank some distant god for that small favor.

I shook my head, lips drawn into a tight line of annoyance. "No, I'm not."

She sighed. "Pity."

A fight seemed imminent. I internally sighed, resigning myself to a battle which would inevitably draw out my darker side, perhaps show these humans what truly lurked in their midst, and find myself again on the outskirts of the town, searching for somewhere else to lay my head for the night.

I considered my materia – or what of I had left that still worked properly – but alas, there was not a single status-affecting bit of magic in my arsenal. Not unusual considering I had no interest in that sort of attack against a monstrous opponent. I aimed to kill when facing the beasts of the wild. Not incapacitate. It was how I had been trained and those sorts of things were very difficult to forget.

"I really don't have time for this," the woman added with another annoyed moan, and before I could blink or so much as comment, she turned on her heels and darted towards the door.

Whether she had conveniently forgotten that she still gripped my arm with the force of an iron band or had intended it was a moot point. I was dragged along into her sprint regardless, feeling a bit like a toy brought along for the ride. A startled sound emerged from my lips as I was tugged along after the stranger, my feet scrambling to stay under me where they belonged rather than up in the air with my back flat on the ground.

We spilled into frigid twilight, snow crunching beneath our boots. Behind us, cries of outrage chased like angered, drunken curses. The men were none too happy that their barfight had run right out the door. But I doubted they would give chase.

She continued to run; I had no choice to follow. We sprinted past the unconscious body of her first opponent, who looked dazed rather than dead but still uncomfortable as the snow fell in steady layers over his body. He would be a corpse soon, if one of his friends didn't retrieve him. Winter nights were not forgiving. Not anymore.

It bothered me that her grip was this strong. Strong like someone enhanced with mako and I could have sworn that had passed years and years ago, so many years that I couldn't count them exactly but knew that they numbered in centuries. I could discern nothing about this woman's occupation. She dressed plainly and there was nothing about her appearance that stood out.

She would have made the perfect assassin.

A block or so later, and several turns, she finally decided that she had fled far enough. Her running turned to jogging turned to walking and then she drew to a halt, one hand propped up against an ice-coated street lamp. It shone muzzily through the thick fall of snow, blanketing my shoulders in white and covering her dark hair. She sucked in a breath or two, barely winded, and I took the opportunity to free my arm from her grip with a violent yank.

I had the feeling that I only managed it because she allowed me. Frowning, I examined my arm where the imprint of her fingers lingered beneath my thick shirt.

"That's the first time anyone's ever kept up to me," she said after a moment, watching me with direct interest. One hand stuck out, palm open and carefree. "The name's Leora, stranger. Thanks for the help. Even if I didn't need it."

I eyed her hand warily. A prideful part of me wondered if her unnatural strength would crush my fingers. However, it had never been my policy to politely shake hands with anyone, so it would be unusual to start now. I didn't even intend to give my name, but looking into her eyes, it emerged anyway.

"Valentine," I said stiffly, contemplating a swift turn and walk in the other direction. My nose flared. Leora smelled of trouble in small bundles. Another Yuffie, if you would.

She grinned, her smile brighter and more warm than anything I had seen in quite some time. As though undiluted by the trials and tribulations of a life actually lived. Though judging from her unnatural strength, that couldn't be the case. Surely she had a story, one likely to match my own. If not mako, her intensity still screamed of scientific experiment.

Cocking her hip to the side, Leora leaned against the ice-covered lamp post as though not even measuring the iciness of the air. Meanwhile, I shivered beneath my cloaks and clothing, a strange thing considering that usually my body adapted itself quickly to any environment. An unusual occurrence to ponder later.

"So, _Valentine_ ," she began, enunciating heavily. "I don't recall seeing you around here before."

I stiffened beneath the cloak, though my expression didn't show it. "It's a large city," I said, pulling my scarf up and closer to my neck, burying the lower half of my face in the woolly and warm confines.

She snorted, her blue eyes narrowing briefly, losing a bit of their bright innocence. "I've also never seen red eyes before. Interesting."

And I had never met a woman strong enough to bodily haul me _anywhere_ , much less out of a bar, down the street, and around a couple of corners. But I wasn't going to say that aloud.

"They are natural," I explained, and whirled on my heel. Enough of this. It wasn't that I had anything better to do, but that I didn't wish to get entangled with this woman.

I tugged the edges of my cloak stronger about myself. I would need to find somewhere to stay for the night. If the cold was going to affect me like this, I shouldn't camp out. Otherwise I would wake up rather uncomfortable and possibly with a cold. Though I had never caught sickness like that before. Then again, I had also never felt the chill so strongly. Avoiding discomfort was at the top of my list.

I managed to walk for a city block before my silence was interrupted.

"You're very interesting."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Not only had I _not_ heard Leora approach, but I had not sensed her at all. And after that wake-up call in the bar, I had ramped my senses up to their full notch. I was at the point of registering every creak of the buildings around me, even a bird flying through the air far above me.

I didn't turn to look at her. "That's the second time you've used that word."

"Well, it's true." She trotted up to my side, still grinning, and still wearing significantly fewer layers than I did. And yet, she seemed nonplussed by the iciness. "I've the feeling there's something different about you, Mr. Valentine. Something, I dare say, that we have in common."

A comment bubbled up from my gut. I pushed it back down and settled for something a bit more logical. "Why are you still following me?"

She chuckled as though enjoying some private joke. "Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?"

And that, right there, nearly broke me. I halted, blinked, and forced my limbs to move again all in the space of five seconds. She laughed all the louder at my reaction, as though it were an everyday event for her to compliment a stranger and imply that she was only following the _interesting_ person because she liked the way he looked.

"I don't like women," I said, partially a lie, but it was a protecting lie and I had never cared much about stretching the truth.

Leora nodded gamely. "Neither do I," she chirped cheerfully. "See? We have something in common already."

My eyebrow twitched. Echoes of Shion stirred inside of me. He, too, had insinuated himself into my life. And I somehow had the distinct feeling that Leora would not be shaken so easily.

\-- **August 2, 3194 --**

Her fingers were cold, a startling contrast to what they had always been in mine. Warm and comforting, her laughter infectious, her cheerful energy bright. Almost too bright for someone like me to dare hold.

I stroked my thumb over her lifeless palm, staring endlessly through an unshuttered window, beyond the wood panes. It wasn't that I hadn't expected this. It was an inevitably. They growing older as I never changed. The years passing by far too quickly. Why did they always rush by for happiness, but drag on into forever when I was alone?

"Mr. Valentine?"

Sighing softly, I rose to my feet and pressed my lips to her forehead, so pale and wrinkled with age. "Good night," I said, because for her, there was never such a thing as good bye. She hated them, and she had told me so many times.

I could almost hear her teasing reply, so clear in my ears. In my heartbroken state, I feared I was going mad. I wondered how much more of this my bleeding heart would take. How many more times would I allow myself to say goodbye, to love and lose all over again?

Squeezing her fingers, I drew back from the hospital bed, letting my eyes linger over her small and fragile body one last time. It was wrong to see her like this, so frail. I could clearly remember her strength, her attitude, her sparkling eyes. Her amusement.

 _There are things we can do that don't require actual sex, Vincent_ , she had said in response to my earliest attempts at rebuff. Of all the reasons I had avoided women in the first place. And just like that, she had dragged me out of loneliness.

I turned away before the heat banking behind my eyes chose to show their face. I had only cried once in this extensive life of mine, and I refused to do so again. It would hurt far too much to let it out.

The woman who had called my name – a nurse that had come to recognize me – turned her sympathetic gaze on me. "I'm sorry about your grandmother."

I would have choked on her words if I wasn't so used to hearing them. "She was a good woman," I said, inclining my head. "Will you see to her final accommodations?"

She blinked at me, clutching her medical clipboards as though they were a lifeline. "You won't...?"

I didn't have the right for any of that. Leora had been mine, for a time, but she still had family. They might not have approved of our relationship, but they had always cared for her. And her nieces and nephews had something planned, as did her younger sister. Something I was not to be part of. I did not fault them for their discrimination. I knew very well what I looked like.

I didn't answer the nurse, leaving her to her confusion as I stepped down the hallway like a dark shadow, having long since traded in the red for something a bit more concealing. I no longer wanted to announce my presence by wrapping myself in the color of blood. Unfortunately, it did little good to cut my hair, so I contented myself with pulling it back.

Stepping out into the warm sunshine of mid-Autumn, I took a moment to let the heat of the weather wash over my face. It fell over dry eyes and a composed expression, even if inside I was shaking so badly my bones clacked together.

Another one gone, another notch to join the marks already engraved in my heart. Lucrecia and Reeve and Cid and Cloud and Shion and Leora. And what was worse was that in the passing years, I was beginning to forget some of the details. Reeve's face blurred every now and again. And I couldn't remember, for the life of me, the exact shade of Cloud's hair. I used to know Cid's brand of cigarette by smell alone, now I couldn't even remember the package. Shion's stupid joke that he always said, the punchline had long escaped me. Only Leora remained fresh. I could only assume that she, too, would fade with time.

Some I attributed to the bullet to the brain. I had healed, but some of my memories had returned a little disorganized and a little fuzzy. With time, they might pull back together, but by then, new ones would have taken over the spaces they once occupied. I hated my brief brush with weakness. If I had not attempted a futile death, I would still hold those precious images.

The warm sunshine could not erase my melancholy. Ignoring the stares of the populace around me – even with an obvious change of attire I still drew attention – I headed into the heart of the city. I would need to restock, to purchase again my items for wandering. I had settled, briefly, for Leora, but now I could not stay in one place for too long. Lest I reveal my true nature.

I asked myself if I could really do this again.

Again and again. Over and over. Letting myself fall for someone and watching them die, little by little, as the years passed. Feeling my heart shatter and mend, only to shatter again. There were only so many times something broken could be patched together before the glue didn't work and the stitches always ripped. And I was so very tired.

I didn't want to try anymore.

Leora had asked me to not give up. To believe that there was something salvageable in this life of mine. She had urged me to find someone else, because time went by faster when I wasn't alone. That a life spent alone wasn't worth suffering. I wished that I could keep that half-hearted promise, but honestly, I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't do this anymore. It was too much like hope, and I couldn't afford that anymore.

My heart couldn't take it.

I disappeared quietly into the night.

**\-- April 23, 3546 --**

Time passed, as it was supposed to do, and I was dragged along with it. The world changed around me, bit by bit, more and more each year. And unwilling to remain in one place long enough for someone to recognize that not only did I not age, but I did not participate in society either, I kept on a constant move. My eyes saw much in those years, and were I an historian, the prospect of watching the world change would have astounded me.

It happened too slowly for me to feel much of anything.

My friends were gone and all that was left was the loneliness of a world I didn't belong to. I avoided relationships with others because I couldn't handle what would happen when they left me. Not again. So I kept to myself and to the demons, who hadn't become any more amiable through the years. They were as bored of my circumstances as I. Monsters were no challenge for us anymore. Nothing was.

I watched as famine struck on the edge of a sweeping drought. The grasslands shrunk, turning into a dry wasteland and completely destroying the chocobo industry. The people turned against each other in those dark times, and I stood back as the world tore itself apart. The harmony it had built in the wake of Sephiroth's destruction and return vanished in the face of hungry children and withering crops. There was nothing I could do to aid them. I had no special magic to bring back the rains again.

I could only watch, and watch I did. It was horrifying, and it was terrible, but as all things, the drought faded and the world gradually began to rebuild. More years passed where it seemed all would be well. Technology continued to advance, and with it, came the monsters.

Bigger ones now. Smarter and more terrifying. They learned how to use magic and weapons, how to form herds and attack in groups. The beasts populated quickly and spread across the land in droves, giving enough of a workout for the demons and I. They were pleased by the new prey; I found myself annoyed.

My materia stopped working around the year 3500. I had realized something was changing as it began faltering. The intense colors grew cloudy. Fire sputtered and died. Healing magic could barely pull together the lightest of cuts and bruises. And then, they cracked and shattered, crumbling to dust.

If I were a scientist or something similar, I could probably understand the reason why. I knew the Lifestream was still running strong. I could feel it beneath me, my senses attuned perhaps because of all the loved ones that flowed its banks. Or perhaps it was that the Lifestream was sinking deeper and deeper into Gaia, to protect itself.

The world had moved on from mako, but that didn't make its new energy any better. And people were losing their beliefs in the old ways. And when belief faltered, so did the magic that created them. By the time the last of my materia had sputtered and died, the general public had forgotten what they were. When a shopkeeper had caught a glimpse of the orbs in my Winchester, he had asked me what they were. The fool had thought them to be mere decoration.

Sadly, at the time they were. The materia had long stopped working and I had been holding on to them for sentimentalities more than anything else.

It was luck, and probably a bit of circumstance, that allowed me to stumble on the magic welling from the ground years later. Curls and curls of power, so palpable that they flowed across my skin, prickling and dizzying. I knew at first touch that it had to be magic, and when I thought about what sort it might be, I felt an immense power flowing into me, somehow called by my demons.

The three latched onto the magic, and before I knew it, I was instantly aware of the presence of several fire spells in the back of my mind. It became a simple task – one of trial and error – to learn how to call upon the fire. It wasn't long after that I learned how to find these magic wells – or draw points as society soon termed them. It was thanks to the demons that I eventually learned how to draw from the monsters as well.

The changes in magic, however, were no more startling than the changes to the world itself. As time passed, Gaia changed, beset with not only the passage of time, but a world whose face altered, as though growing old. Soon, Gaia's people had to learn how to counter a new threat, one whose face could not be seen, which had no enemy to defeat.

Spewing ash and smoke, spilling fire into the air, something rose from the ocean between Wutai and Cosmo Canyon, sending great shocks through the land as well as massive walls of water to either shore. It spat into the sky for many weeks, a looming monster that no one could counter. Crops were covered in ash and liquid stone clogged the watery channel. The residents of Cosmo Canyon were forced to flee to the other coast and the sky was grey for months.

I stood on the huge bluff overlooking Cosmo Canyon and stared at the volcano as it continued to belch its poison. Wutai became a wasteland covered in ash and debris, though the residents had long ago fled. And this side of the continent had been abandoned, even Rocket Town and what remained of Nibelheim. I assumed it would be some time before the humans ventured near here again.

It took months before the beast lost any energy, but by that point, the whole appearance of the world had changed. It had become dingy and grey. But even more than that, Wutai and Cosmo Canyon were no longer separated by the ocean. The two nearest peninsulas had been amalgamed together by the volcano's eruption. It was terrifying and yet beautiful to behold.

A part of me felt awed to be involved in witnessing this with my own eyes. I was the only one alive to see the ending and the beginning.

Gaia had not stopped there. She wasn't done spilling her displeasure it seemed. The ground continued to shake, to turn and toss. The world changed, altered, broke apart and sealed together anew. The islands to the south were split by an invisible force that seemed to tear it from below. The lands to the north were divided by a massive quake, broke apart into smaller islands, a huge rift cutting right through the Northern Crater and burying Icicle Inn under tons of ice and rock.

But never more startling was anything than to watch an entire mountain heave and destroy what I had begun to call Lucrecia's Cave. Her final resting place.

I stood on the edge and looked down into a flat, pockmarked wasteland. The waterfall and pool had been completely covered. There was no sign of the crater that had once graced the landscape. There was no sign of her cave.

I waited for the crushing blow. The gripping sensation of having failed her yet again. For the guilt to consume me and for the pain to strike my heart. My stomach coiled uneasily as I waited.

It never came.

To my utter surprise, I had somehow forgiven myself for Lucrecia's fate a long time beforehand. I still loved her. There was a place inside my heart that yearned for her alone. She could never be replaced. But I no longer clung to her memory. She was no longer the alpha and the omega in my thoughts.

She was simply Lucrecia. The woman I adored. The woman I failed to save, and paid for my failure with my life. She was beautiful and she was perfect, but she was also gone and I had accepted that. Somewhere along the way, I had accepted my part in that.

Perhaps it was merely apathy. Three thousand years was a long time to cling to the past. When one lived – _existed_ – for that long, memories of the beginning grew fuzzier, less distinct. I could clearly recall my feelings for her. The sound of her laughter, the curve of her smile. And the terrible things were fading. There was no room for them, not when I had more desire to recall the wonderful truths. Not when I didn't want to forget her, as she was. Or Reeve. Cloud. Shion. Leora. Any of those that had made a stamp on my repeatedly cracked heart.

Arguably, I still harbored some hatred for Hojo. If not for him, I would have been granted peace a thousand times over. I would have already passed on into the next life. I would not be forced to wander Gaia endlessly. There were days that I sunk into melancholy when I realized my fate. But as always, they passed. As with all things, eventually, they passed.

Except for me.

I watched the world change around me and thought it so strange that something as massive as Gaia could alter when something as small and insignificant as myself remained the same. I avoided mirrors as though they were cursed bits of glass and metal. I didn't like seeing my unchanging face. Each year was harder than the last.

I had heard that boredom could kill a man. Well, I had now proven that such a thing was an utter farce. Otherwise I would have happily died a thousand times over. I no longer lived, I merely existed, and I wondered how long this existence of mine would last. Until the end of Gaia? The end of time? Would I be here when the world itself came to an end?

Would that be my peace at last?

How awful of me to wish for such a thing.

The nights were cold, the mornings empty, the afternoons dry and arid like a desert. The sun rising and falling became a curse. And the sporadic cough was more annoying than anything else. After awhile, I didn't notice it either. I didn't notice much of anything at all, not even when the world slowly but surely trudged again towards war.

* * * * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**Chapter Nine**

**\--April 17, 4012--**

A handful of children.

Apparently, that was what it took the save the world nowadays. A handful of children with parasites living in their brains. The eldest of them was what? Eighteen? If that? Granted Cloud wasn't much older. A mere twenty-two when he led us against Sephiroth. And Yuffie was only sixteen, but honestly, a handful of children?

I heard of the Sorceress War of course. I remembered the Lunar Cry Phenomenon which had taken place eighty years ago. I recalled the monsters that had poured down out of nowhere, saturating the land with creatures to take the place of the ones gradually destroyed by the passage of time. And I knew of Adel. I remembered hearing of her takeover in Cosmo Canyon.

Ahem. That place was known as Esthar now. Somewhere along the way, when the people had returned after the volcano erupted, the name had changed though its purpose had not. That area still remained a place of study, except the study had changed to magic rather than the planet. Science still reigned supreme.

But the war against Adel had been none of my business, and I watched from afar as a soldier from Galbadia – a bit of a klutz who reminded me of Reeve in many ways – defeated her and brought peace. Or something similar. It seemed like everything was going to be just fine.

Not even I remembered precisely what happened. Some of my memories of the past had even grown fuzzier. Distorted. It must have had something to do with whatever those children did to defeat the Sorceress from the future. I was one of the few – possibly the only – who remembered the _before_. Who remembered the way this world used to look, the people who used to inhabit it... _Sephiroth_.

No one spoke his name anymore. Some two thousand years later and all that had been forgotten. Granted the world had changed in that time. Materia had fallen into obscurity. The monsters had shifted, grown more terrible. Even the land itself had experienced an alteration. How much of it was magic and how much of it was a result of defeating the Sorceress, I couldn't say. I didn't know enough to guess.

Why could Gaia – known as Gaea now – change so quickly? I was sure Nanaki could explain it better. I could only surmise that we had been too late in defeating Sephiroth. That his poison had been enough to unsettle our planet, forcing a chain of events that would not be seen for a dozen centuries down the road. It had certainly been enough to disrupt the magic and the flow of life. Who knew what other possible repercussions his pestilence had laid into the heart of Gaia?

A bunch of children...

I didn't know why I stood here, looking at this massive, mobile structure of steel, crafted to resemble... well, I wasn't sure what it was meant to look like. To me, it was eerily similar to the bobbing shape of a child's rubber duck. But I was pretty certain that wasn't what its architects had intended. And they called it a Garden.

I snorted at the idea. From what I'd seen, this place cultivated no vegetation, but rather bred killing machines in the shape of children. I couldn't say whether it was any better or worse than ShinRa, so I tried not to judge them too harshly. They had, after all, saved the world. And without any sort of profit. Mercenaries they might be, but they did appear to have some honor.

At the moment, Balamb Garden – home to the now infamous Squall Leonhart and his team of fellow teenagers – was parked in the empty space just outside of Timber. I currently stood in the shadows of the forest, eying the massive structure. My insides twinged at the sight of what was very obviously a military institution. I recalled years spent in ShinRa's service, and even longer formative years in ShinRa's military academy.

I could only surmise that the children attending this Garden had done so by choice. Glory, perhaps. Honor. Strength. Courage. Whatever their reason, it was undeniable proof that the world I knew had truly changed. For the better, I didn't know.

I stood here, watching this seemingly innocuous building, because my presence here had a purpose. Curiosity drove me, perhaps the only driving force that was left in my mundane existence.

Curiosity and the brief glimpse of Gaea's new, young hero I had received on a massive television screen outside the main theater in Deling City.

Seeing that young face, pinched with the stiff, blank facade of a soldier, I had been reminded of Cloud. But not even Cloud held eyes that irrepressibly lonely and regretful all at once. Despite the beautiful woman pressed closely to his side, and the slight upturn of his lips, the smile did not reach Squall's eyes. Not when the president of Esthar introduced him, and not even when the crowd celebrated the victory.

No, I would best describe the look in Squall Leonhart's eyes as haunted. Had I dared glance into a mirror, it probably matched the one in my own.

Above me, the sky rumbled ominously, echoing the slight ache that permeated my entire body. I couldn't remember when it had started – the aching – at least, not precisely. I just knew that on particularly chilly days, or strange-weather days, I could feel the aching in my bones and joints. Creaking like a rusty hinge. Strangely, I relished the odd throbbing. It reminded me that some part at least remained human.

Tucking the lines of my cloak tighter around my body, and clamping down on a faint cough, I used the shadows as my guide, slipping towards Balamb Garden with single-minded intent. I was curious, yes. I wanted to know what type of person a place such as this would breed. Others like me? Poor bastards like Sephiroth? Or just lonely souls like Squall Leonhart who had everything any normal teenage male would want and still seemed as though he lacked one crucial bit.

Crossing the landscape was easy enough. Finding an entrance was not. I knew that, at one time, Balamb Garden had been immobile. Surrounded by a high fence and gate. It had neither now. And no discernible entree. An enigma to ponder.

"Hi!"

I paused, disturbed by the sudden cheerful and enthusiastic greeting. In the midst of examining a smooth, metal surface for an entrance, I turned to face the owner of said cheerful voice.

She was small, no bigger than Yuffie had been, her brunet hair flipped outwards and her brown eyes sparkling. Also, she was dressed in blinding, bright, sunshine-yellow, making her seem quite cherubic. The nunchaku, dangling seemingly innocuously in one hand however, did not. It informed me, quite guilelessly, that she was no mere girl.

I tipped my head. "Hello."

Her eyes rounded. "Wow! Your eyes are _red_. I've never seen that before. Except in Fujin, but she's more Seifer's friend than mine. Do you know her, Fujin? You guys look a lot alike. Except her hair is white and yours is black."

I blinked. She had said that all in one breath. And never lost her sunny smile. Her head tipped to the side, regarding me thoughtfully. And my hand crept towards the gun I always kept surreptitiously strapped to my thigh.

"I do not know this Fujin," I said slowly, carefully, unsure how to treat this new creature. "I'm afraid I do not know much of anyone at all."

She laughed, actually chuckled right then and there. One hand – free of the nunchaku I noticed – gestured to herself. "Well, I'm Selphie. So now you know at least one!"

"I suppose that I do," I agreed, lips parting in the smallest of smiles. "I am Valentine."

"Well, Mr. Valentine," she said, planting a hand on her hip and cocking the opposite hip to the side. "Why are you lurking about the garden?"

Her use of 'lurking' was rather interesting. She was not as air-headed as one would believe.

"Looking for an entrance," I answered honestly, because there was no point in lying and she seemed like the reasonable type. I wasn't here for a fight.

She giggled and dove forward. I interpreted this as an attack and instantly went on the defensive. Except, rather than draw her nunchaku – which was an impressive bright yellow and covered in glittery stars – her arm hooked around mine and she all but jerked me forward with a strength that frighteningly reminded me of Leora.

"I'll show you," Selphie said, tugging me in the proper direction with a grip as strong as steel only far more soft. "It's always hard to find when we're in Travel Mode. Are you an investor? No, wait, you don't look rich enough to be an investor. Maybe the new teacher? I see that you have a gun and Professor Shrift did sorta throw up his hands and quit last week so maybe you're his replacement. That would be awesome. Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?"

I blinked, trying to separate the one long breath into something understandable. Of course, looking at me, one would assume that I possessed little in the way of monetary funds. But she also didn't know that I had been alive for a couple of thousand years and in that time, had amassed quite a fortune putting down the local bestiary.

As for a teacher... hmm, actually that would be quite a good cover as I wandered around. I didn't want the students and SEED to get suspicious and attack. While I could handle myself and couldn't die, it would be annoying. I also would not want to accidentally kill any of them.

"You live here?" I asked, rather than the bevy of questions that wanted to emerge. And lifted a hand to cover a cough as it escaped my lips, dry and raspy, nothing like the wet, stickiness of a cold or something similar.

Selphie nodded, her upturned hair bouncing enthusiastically as she pulled me to a nondescript section of paneling and pressed something, opening a doorway. "Balamb Garden is my home now, but I was originally at Trabia Garden." She giggled. "I go back from time to time but I can't stay long. Irvy starts to miss me."

Irvy? No, better to worry about that later.

"I see." Even though I didn't. I thought it might be better if I _didn't_ encourage her to speak as it only left me more confused in the end.

I contemplated escape, even as we emerged into what had to be the main lobby of Balamb Garden. My eyes took in the massive elevator that seemed to be the focal point, rising upwards to another floor. Greenery decorated the hallway in sporadic intervals and the corridor curved to either side from where we stood, right before a directory. Judging from the map, the Garden was basically one huge circle with rooms jutting out from the center like the spokes of a bicycle wheel. Simple enough.

"This is the directory," Selphie explained with a broad gesture. "Anytime you get lost you can just come back here and it'll tell you where to go."

I think she missed the point that if I were lost, I most likely would not be able to get to the directory in the first place. And secondly, this place was a circle. How could anyone get lost?

"You probably need to see Squall first, right?" she continued, barreling right on in her own little world and heedless to the fact that I had yet to say or confirm much of anything at all. "So we'll have to go to the third floor. I can't believe he found another instructor so soon. But that's just like Squall, on top of the game. And – Irvy!"

She suddenly broke away, her eyes catching something, and bouncing excitedly, chased after an unknown target. Possibly the man in brown leather with a cowboy hat settled over long, auburn tresses. This was only an educated guess on my part as he turned towards her with a lady-killing grin, tipping his head and hat.

Selphie practically crawled into his arms with a happy yelp and I took that opportunity to make myself scarce. Undoubtedly she would remember my presence at some later point – most likely within the next minute or so if her happy-skippy brain worked the way I believed it to – and by that point, I wanted to be well and _lost_ and exploring this intriguing institution. It was so much more brighter than ShinRa's academy and training regime. It was, of all things, a school more than a military prison.

I wandered down the corridor curving to the right, passing by a sign that distinctly announced the library. I was momentarily intrigued, realizing that I could possibly spend long hours comparing Gaea's version of history to Gaia's. That I could probably get more details on the Sorceress War and how Gaea interpreted certain events. It would be an interesting way to spend the time, provided I wasn't immediately evicted from the premises once the powers-that-be realized I wasn't supposed to be here.

I continued on, finding a sign that announced the Training Center. I paused, intrigued. I wondered what SEED and these students would consider actual training. Just a series of weight-rooms and open arenas like those in ShinRa? I decided to wander down this long hallway, inviting myself inside.

My nose twitched at the instant scent of greenery and gunpowder, the tingling sensation of magic, and the distant roar of some beast. This was no Training Center like I had ever seen. Somehow, they had managed to cultivate a biodome on their campus, and then stocked it with some of the less dangerous forms of bestiary as a Scan spell informed me. Grats – nuisances they were – and the occasional T-Rexaur. Those weren't quite as safe, but they seemed to be centered in one location the unskilled knew to avoid, no doubt.

I heard voices. One female, strict and solid, and a bevy of others, varied and piping up in moments when the female authority fell silent. Intrigued, I stepped further into the training center, shot a Grat who failed at sneaking up on me, and investigated the voices.

I found a woman, dressed in pale brown and yellow, glasses perched daintily on a pert nose, and surrounded by a half-dozen students in matching uniforms of blue and bows. Something I was glad that ShinRa had never impressed upon it's own recruits. At least ShinRa's uniforms were _austere_. These better resembled a private school at some fancy institution.

The woman – a teacher I gathered – was explaining something along the lines of discerning strengths and weaknesses of the general enemy. A coiled length of leather and chains hung on one hip, and I admired the musculature of her arms. No doubt she was deceptively strong to be able to wield such a weapon. Intermittently, she would lift a finger to adjust her glasses, but otherwise, she was focused on her students who, in turn, focused on her raptly. Given that that they were mostly female, I found that a bit interesting.

"Instructor Trepe!" one girl enthused, her eyes practically filled with starry adoration. "What is the best element for defense against a creature composed of both fire and wind?"

One forefinger extended to push up her glasses. "The answer is simple, Cadet Leroux," she said, her voice sweet and dulcet, belying the sharp mind and strength she must have held underneath. And then she devolved into a scientific and structured explanation of the best tactic, leaving me boggled.

I turned away, my curiosity satisfied, and left the Training Center. My path took me past the Parking Garage – which held no interest – and the Dormitory, also a place of no interest. I knew what dormitories of handfuls of children and teenagers looked and smelled like. I had no desire to let my nose or my eyes anywhere near there.

I continued onwards, a sign coming to view in the near distance.

"Look out! Coming through! 'Scuuuuuuse me!"

I was practically shoved out of the way as a body barreled past me, running at top speed as if the world was about to implode around him. I caught a glimpse of blond hair, spiked at the top in a manner that would have made Cloud proud, and the most impressive set of black tattoos curling up the side of his face. That _had_ to have hurt. Either the kid had a thing for pain, or he was simply really good at hiding it.

I wondered at the reason for his hurry as he plummeted down the next walkway, belatedly recognized to be the cafeteria. An _interesting_ smell was wafting from the corridor, appetizing but simple. I wasn't hungry, but perhaps I would take a peek later. Besides, it seemed that there was a steady stream of students already heading towards the cafeteria. It was probably crowded.

I checked my watch. And lunch time as well. Which explained the slow emptying of the hallways. I was not one to underestimate the hunger and appetites of a building full of children. Speaking of which, this place seemed much larger on the inside than on the out.

The hall curved once again, leading me to another corridor that was announced as the Quad. A quite unique and unassuming name. I wasn't sure what the Quad was used for actually. It called for further investigation.

The scent of fresh air hit my nose before anything else and as I emerged into the Quad, I found that it was an open-air garden, with trees and flowers growing in abundance. As well as a stage that seemed in the middle of construction. On the far end, evidence of a rough battle could be seen in the chunks that were missing from the flooring and rail, and the bright yellow tape stretched across it. Along with signs that warned students not to approach the cliff. I remembered hearing that that Balamb Garden had been through several battles in its mobile state, most famously its collision with Galbadia Garden.

If I were to have been a student here, the Quad most likely would have been my favorite place as it felt so much less stifling than the enclosed areas within. The others held their appeal, outside of the socialization involved in the cafeteria, but I definitely would have preferred something more open.

"Oi! Who the hell are you!"

At the intruding – and also rude – tone, I turned slowly, watching the approach of three individuals, only one of which I recognized. The Sorceress' Dog, if I remembered the news casts correctly. Seifer Almasy was a handsome man if one looked beyond his arrogance and smug veneer to see the scared child hiding beneath. I knew his type. He reminded me roughly of Reno and probably what Cid would have been like in his youth had he not been able to chase after his dreams. It was obvious that Seifer's inferiority complex put a crack in his confidence a mile wide.

He was flanked by a large, dark-skinned man who seemed nice for all his tough-guy exterior and a woman whose eyes held mine and did not let go. A little eerie, I might add. I thought that this must be the Fujin that Selphie had babbled to me because she had crimson eyes, nearly the same color as mine. But hers were genetic as well, going along with her white skin and pale hair.

"Pardon?" I returned, my arms hanging in a nonthreatening manner at my sides, though I noticed that Seifer's eyes didn't fail to flicker to my right thigh where my holster was located. Categorizing my weapons and possible threat in an instant. A good soldier.

Those eyes, a very catlike green, weighed and registered me. "You're not a student here, and you're not a SEED. You're also no dignitary or member of nobility," Seifer said aggressively, and shifted into a cocky stance, eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Visiting," I answered simply, because there would be no point in stringing an elaborate lie. While confident I could put together one that made sense, I had the feeling Seifer was too smart to accept it. He hadn't been defeated by Squall because he was stupid or unskilled, but because he was arrogant and lost.

I, in fact, found it highly interesting that Seifer was still _here_ , and not under someone's strict guard or in a prison cell considering his part in the war. Perhaps Squall had spoken up for him. Or perhaps there was some deeper explanation. It was intriguing.

Or perhaps he was like Cloud, who at one point had given himself fully to the enemy, even going so far as to hand over the black materia. But it had not been under his control, he hadn't gone so willingly.

But no, looking into Seifer's eyes, he didn't carry the same lost madness as Cloud's had. The one that said he would follow whatever held his hand because he didn't know any better, out of a love that would never see fruition. No, Seifer had chosen to go with the Sorceress. Had chosen to serve her. And now he had chosen to return home.

 _Interesting_.

My explanation was not good enough for Seifer. He lifted a finger, pointing it rudely in my direction, stepping closer until that finger was bare inches from my face. I didn't flinch, returning his stare coolly.

"You're trespassing," he said, a threatening aura rising around him in a manner that was nearly impressive.

But I faced down much fiercer foes than he and his friends had ever seen. Nothing could compare to the terror that was Sephiroth under the influence of unlimited power. Or that of a flaming ball of pure rock hurtling itself at your planet, hovering over like a gleaming red sun and threatening to destroy everything in a blink. Or that of having four demons bonded to your body, choosing to emerge whenever they wished, though admittedly they had become less and less restless with time.

This child had nothing that could alarm me.

"With no ill intent, I assure you," I returned, though I had the feeling Seifer was more "look before you leap" then willing to sit back patiently and observe. "I was merely curious."

He seemed flummoxed by the sight of someone who didn't flinch in his presence. We were about the same height, though it was obvious he outweighed me. And I had the feeling Seifer was used to people fleeing his presence.

He looked at me, those cat-like eyes discerning. "You're not afraid of me."

My lips quirked towards a smirk. "Should I be?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Seifer!"

A female voice intruded, one that made the blond in front of me stiffen in a strange way, annoyance clear in his expression. I glanced past him, convinced that he was all bluff and bluster at the moment since he hadn't decided me for a threat yet, and found a face that I could recognize thanks to the pictures – Rinoa Heartilly. The arm decoration of one Squall Leonhart, a sorceress, and General Caraway's daughter. Quite a resume for a girl who looked too delicate for anything more than the lightest work.

I wondered how she fit in amongst these hired killers and soldiers.

"What?" Seifer asked curtly, obviously not too enamored of Rinoa. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

She pouted, though I couldn't understand why, and planted both hands on her hips. "You're not doing anything but wandering around and terrorizing the students." She leaned to the side to look past Seifer towards me. "And this man."

"He's an intruder."

"He's the new teacher," Rinoa corrected, and either she had run into Selphie at some point, or she was jumping to conclusions. I wouldn't put either past her.

Seifer snorted. "No, he's not."

"Yes, he _is_."

This could be a quickly tiresome argument and I didn't want to witness it. "I was looking for Commander Leonhart," I intruded, drawing attention back to my presence. "If you would kindly point me in the right direction, I will quickly tend to my business."

Warm brown eyes shot towards Seifer triumphantly, as if to say 'I told you so' before Rinoa pranced – yes, pranced – in my direction. "Don't worry," she chirped, hooking her arm around mine in a manner that made me squirm unpleasantly. She reminded me of Tifa in so many ways it was not even amusing anymore. "I'll take you to him."

"Rinoa," Seifer said warningly, following along as she urged me in the proper direction and I graciously allowed it. She hadn't the unusual strength of Selphie. And her arms weren't bundled with muscle. It was clear that Rinoa was no soldier, every feature delicate and refined.

I imagined that she didn't fit in too well here at all.

The young woman tossed a look over her shoulder that implied she was not one to be argued against and continued to escort me out of the Quad. I followed, bemused, even as my ears tracked the triple footsteps behind us. Clearly, Seifer didn't trust me at all. My esteem for him rose even higher.

Rinoa accompanied me past the Infirmary and back towards the lobby where I was taken straight towards the elevator. A small structure walled with glass, only Seifer was able to fit into the lift with Rinoa and I, leaving his lackeys behind. Rinoa selected the appropriate floor and flashed me a winning smile as the door slid shut.

A tickle danced in the back of my throat and I coughed, covering my face politely with the crook of my shoulder, opposite from Rinoa's grip. The slight clearing of my throat had the effect of echoing throughout my entire body, pulling a faint stab of pain from my back and lungs.

Strange.

Pretty brown eyes turned towards me. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I said, waving a free hand of dismissal. "A bit dusty."

Rinoa tossed me a strange look. But I certainly wasn't going to explain anything. Never mind that I didn't actually _have_ an explanation to offer. The reason for this persisting sickness was beyond me. And it wasn't like I had an attending physician to question about it. No, I pity the doctor who found me on their examination table.

"So," she began, drawing out every syllable longer than proper grammar – and my sanity – dictated was polite. "The Garden can be pretty confusing, ne?" This bland statement was accompanied by a vacuous giggle. "I once was lost for two hours before Squally found me."

Internally, I winced. The question of who could possibly get lost in this place had just been answered. I wasn't surprised. And I gathered that the commander did not like his nickname at all. It wasn't much better than the Vinny that ninja brat had always insisted on assaulting my ears with.

"It must have been terrible for you," I said, as politely as I could muster, my lips not even twitching.

Beside and just behind me, Seifer snorted and muttered something under his breath. It sounded like a muffled snort of laughter.

The elevator dinged thankfully, spilling the three of us out onto the third floor and saving me from whatever Rinoa planned to say next. The hall was small, branching off in three directions, each short corridor ending in a door. One was distinctly labeled "Bridge" with a brand new, freshly painted plaque. The other I could not read. But it was in the direction of the third that Rinoa dragged me, Seifer dogging our steps.

I heard the voices before she even opened the door, a collection of several tones, male and female alike. They rose higher and higher with each step closer. Chattering all at once at a pair of ears that weren't too anxious to listen.

Rinoa opened the door without knocking, not that anyone would have been able to hear her if she had, and the voices hit me full in the face. I blinked, slightly intimidated by the force of energy, but had no choice in the matter when Rinoa thrust my person in ahead of her.

Immediately, I recognized Squall Leonhart as the stoic force standing behind a desk and regarding the voices aimed his direction with a curious and confused look in his eyes. His expression was carefully blank; only his eyes betrayed his emotions. I also recognized the long-haired cowboy from earlier, the blond who had nearly run me over, and Instructor Trepe from the Training Center.

And Selphie stood at the head of the pack, her hands planted forcefully on her hips as she treated Squall to what was most likely a very determined pout. I couldn't see her expression from my current position.

"Selphie," Squall began with an annoyed sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. One gloved hand gestured. "I don't--"

She stomped her foot. "I turned around and the really cool vampire was gone. Like that!" Hands flailed uselessly. "Like magic!"

Squall looked as if he were two steps away from requesting Reeve's special brand of migraine medicine, reserved for those instances when he had been required to deal with Rufus and his ilk. In the background, the instructor was murmuring in conversation with the cowboy and the tattooed blond was taking an odd swipe at Seifer. My arm had yet to be relinquished by Rinoa.

And then, grey-blue eyes shifted past Selphie's enthusiastic plea to send out a search party, seeking my presence with unerring certainty. The only proof of his reaction was the brief widening of his eyes before he lifted his hand, dropping the other away from his nose, calling for silence.

"Selphie. _Enough_ ," Squall said shortly, stressing the command enough that the hyperactive fell silent, though not without a grudging 'humph'. One gloved finger pointed in my direction. "Is that him?"

Whirling, Selphie practically bounced in place. "Yes, that's him!" she said, dangerously close to a squeal. "Isn't he dreamy?"

"I found him," Rinoa announced, as though there were any evidence to the contrary considering she still had an arm looped about mine. "Or should I say, Seifer did first." This was accompanied by a glare in said arrogant man's direction.

Seifer shrugged it off, uncaring.

"I don't care _who_ found him," Squall said sharply, every inch the commander. "I want to know who he is." His gaze unerringly found me, the demand clear. " _Who are you_?"

I was sure that his stare would have been intimidating for anyone else. Certainly Rinoa quailed at my side and finally released my arm, obviously not wanting to be near anyone who was faced with Squall's annoyance. I, however, had lived far too long to be browbeaten by anyone, much less a handful of teenagers. Even if they were teenagers capable of saving the world from a bitch sorceress hell bent on altering reality.

"I was once a hero. Much like yourself," I answered carefully, thinking it unnecessary to hide the truth. Lies would gain me nothing.

My words had the interesting effect of causing quiet to sweep through the room, Squall looking at me as though trying to discern the honesty in my words. The instructor frowned; the tattooed blond hopped in place. The cowboy hummed thoughtfully and Seifer snorted derisively. Rinoa stared in wide-eyed wonder and Selphie... well, it was her reaction that was the most demonstrative.

"Cool!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Who did you save?"

"Selphie, darling, I think you should let Squall handle this," the cowboy – whom I still believed to be the aforementioned 'Irvy' – said, stepping forward and placing both hands on the energetic brunet's shoulders. He all but tugged her off to the side.

Predictably, she pouted, her interested eyes sweeping back my direction as though yearning to pepper me with question after question. I found myself feeling grateful to Irvy as Selphie's enthusiasm was not something I was prepared to deal with after more than five centuries of surviving with only myself and four demons for company.

Squall, as of yet, had not spoken. Obviously, he was the least talkative of this bunch. Stoic, probably to a fault, and incredibly withdrawn. Not unlike Cloud in his more broodier moments. Or myself, if I were being completely honest.

I decided to take pity on the obviously unsocialized teenager and elaborate further. "I only came out of curiosity, interested in meeting the children who saved all of Gaia."

"Gaea," the instructor corrected absently.

Behind me, Seifer scowled, his lips twisting with annoyance. "We aren't children."

"I said what I meant," I continued, for this planet will always be Gaia to me. "And my apologies, but it has been so long that sometimes I forget how war ages you." My eyes met Squall's, blue clashing with crimson, a shared glance of similar emotions.

War had helped transform my existence from a bright-eyed, eager young thing to the man that eventually rose to second-in-command of ShinRa's Turks. I couldn't, even now, say if it was a good or bad thing. It simply _was_ , and it was past and I had come to accept that. There was no changing what had happened. Only accepting it.

Squall cleared his throat. "Mister--" He paused, recognizing that I had yet to fully introduce myself. As had been intentional on my part.

"Valentine," I helpfully supplied, knowing the name would mean absolutely nothing to them. "Vincent Valentine. Former assassin and hero."

A dark brow arched as Rinoa giggled somewhere behind me. "An interesting resume," Squall said.

"It is something of a long story," I admitted, shifting in my stance and causing my holster to creak, a sound that carried through the silence. "One that would take hours, if not days, to explain."

"The commander doesn't have the time for that," Instructor Trepe intruded stiffly, her blue eyes constantly raking over my person as if trying to discern my method and means. "Perhaps a short version?"

"I've the feeling it will lead to more confusion than answers, but I will try," I said, tipping my head in acquiescence. Though I hadn't any trust that they would believe me.

It was difficult to condense the events of four thousand years to a few choice phrases, telling much and revealing nothing. I stuck to the important bits, to Sephiroth and AVALANCHE and ShinRa. To an immortal life where I lingered in a world that no longer had a use for me.

They had to know that I left out a lot of details, but if these teenagers wanted them later, they were more than welcome to ask. It hadn't been a hyperbolic statement to claim that it would take days to tell them _everything._

I finished my tale with a lack of grandiose flair and waited for their reaction. For the most part, stunned amazement radiated across the board. Squall had returned to his seat, regarding me with disbelief, while the others treated me as though I were some sculpture that required staring.

One gloved hand folded across Squall's cluttered desktop, littered with the paper detritus any military or scholastic institution inevitably gathered. "No offense, Mr. Valentine, but do you honestly expect us to believe your ridiculous story?" Squall asked, his tone a touch frosty. "That you are more than four thousand years old?"

"I only expect you to suspend disbelief. You are the ones who experienced Time Compression did you not?" I posed. "Is it that difficult to believe?"

"Of course it is. I--" Squall broke off mid-response, confusion flickering across his face.

His eyes shifted to the side and down, staring at something only he could see. And then he sighed.

My brows lifted. "Commander?"

Squall lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose in a motion that I had come to recognize as one that represented exasperation. "It seems that your story has been corroborated."

"What?"

"By who?"

"Squall... are you all right?"

"Ain't it obvious?" Seifer inserted, his voice easily carrying over the surprised responses of their gathered friends. "The only person Squally-boy willingly talks to is Shiva." That the blond didn't mention Rinoa was an interesting point. Were they no longer involved?

I considered Seifer's words. "Oh? You are in possession of Shiva? She was a formidable ally."

"And you, apparently, were as well," Squall agreed, fingers drumming briefly across the top of his desk. "She remembers you."

"What? Really?" Selphie said, practically squeaking with rounded eyes of astonishment and reminding me faintly of Marlene. "That's awesome!"

Instructor Trepe adjusted her glasses with the tip of one elegantly painted finger. "The Guardian Forces are older than we can possibly imagine. If Mr. Valentine is as old as he claims, then it is no wonder he is remembered." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "Leviathan is echoing Shiva's corroboration," she added, making an unusual face. "He remarks that Lady Yuffie would have never expected to see the day that Mr. Valentine is surrounded by teenagers willingly."

I resisted the urge to snort aloud at the thought of anyone calling Yuffie a lady. Even if it was only her favorite summon.

"Who is Yuffie?" the tattooed blond asked, speaking for the first time since I walked into this office. He had an interesting voice, deeper than I would have expected for someone of his... stature. Then again, Cloud never did have the most intimidating presence.

I lifted my shoulders. "One of my companions. A ninja from the lands of Wutai which no longer exist in this world. At least, not in the way that I knew them."

"Ifrit is putting in his two gil," Irvy said, one hand rising to tip his hat backwards, revealing the pure amethyst of his eyes. "Though he's muttering something about a dog that can speak. Nonsense, if you ask me."

"Nanaki," I answered, feeling a slight pang in my heart. Nanaki had been the last loss I suffered of my original companions. And I heard nothing from his family since they migrated north, hiding among the newly transformed mountains of Trabia. "I'm sure if you asked some of your other guardian forces, they would remember me as well. Bahamut perhaps. Alexander as well."

Inclining her head, Instructor Trepe's eyes gleamed cerulean. "Then your story has proven true. How fascinating. The things you must know from history.... to have seen it all. I envy you."

"Do not envy this life. I wouldn't wish it on anyone," I said, and my tone was perhaps a bit too harsh as the blond drew back into herself, cheeks stained with red.

Silence fell. An uncomfortable sort of quiet that rode on the wings of tension. It was time that I took my leave. I had lingered long enough. My curiosity was answered, and there was nothing to occupy me here either.

I shifted, drawing attention to myself on Squall's part, which was what I needed in the first place. The shallow dip of my head served as a polite appreciation for his time.

"My curiosity has been satisfied," I announced, contemplating my next move. To Esthar perhaps? A purely technological city intrigued me. "I will take my leave." I turned to do just that, pretty certain I could find my way out.

"No."

Squall's voice.

I shifted back towards him, one brow arched at the command, for it couldn't be considered anything else. "No?" I repeated with a somewhat threatening air, the demons inside not liking the idea of being ordered around by a teenager anymore than I did.

He shook his head, rising to his feet. One gloved hand landed flat on his desk as he leaned forward, presenting an aura of danger. "I can't have someone like you wandering around Gaea unstructured, if your story is to be believed," Squall explained, his eyes glancing briefly to Seifer before returning to me again. "If you are half as powerful as Shiva claims, and the Guardian Forces in your mind are equal to that, then you would be a valuable asset to any potential future enemy.

 _Like a sorceress_ , went unsaid. I didn't need Squall to outline the particulars. Perhaps this also explained Seifer's presence in Balamb Garden when his part in the war had been no big secret. No doubt Seifer's existence had not been treated favorably by the public. No doubt they only saw a monster in his handsome face, just as they would have believed Cloud to be a monster had they known his part in Sephiroth gaining the black materia. Therefore, had Squall gathered Seifer under his protective umbrella? I imagined that would be quite a point of consternation with the blond.

Well, if this child wanted to keep an eye on me, I couldn't fault him for that. It wasn't as if I couldn't leave at any later point if I wished. There was nothing here, no prison cell, that could hold me. And if I stayed on the pretense of being watched, that would mean I would have ample time to explore the boundless information offered by the library. It would be a way to pass the time, at least.

I would defer to the commander.

For now.

* * *

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**Chapter Ten**

**\-- May 31, 4012 --**

Eventually, I learned their names.

Quistis Trepe, the no-nonsense blond with a firm personality but a gentle heart. And, if I wasn't mistaken, a girlish crush on Squall that had since transferred to another, more deserving male.

Irvine Kinneas, playboy extraordinaire and suave gentlemen. He certainly played his part well, but even I could see his insecurities. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that the number of women he had actually seduced was much, much smaller than the number of hearts he had claimed to steal.

Selphie Tilmitt, hyperactive and cheerful, always planning some festival or another and scaring away her companions as a result. I, too, had learned the intelligence in avoiding Tilmitt and made it a point to do so.

Zell Dincht, the closet masochist with the tattoos all over his face. They fascinated me, but no more than when he whipped off his shirt and showed off the beautiful array of swirls and dark lines across his back. I had hidden my reaction of course, but Zell preened like a chocobo anyway.

And I had not failed to notice, either, that Zell's eyes followed their fearless leader when he thought no one was looking.

The latter three – Squall, Rinoa, and Seifer – I had already known to a certain extent.

Commander of Balamb Garden. Hero to all of Gaia. The seventeen year old son of Laguna Loire, the President of Esthar. Pfft. And Squall had claimed _my_ resume to be impressive. One couldn't ask for a better bunch of cognomens to be attached to a singular entity.

Oh, and the fact he was dating General Caraway's daughter. The press and tabloids had held a field day on that fact.

It didn't help that Rinoa flaunted her attachment to Squall at every opportunity. Yet, never seemed to noticed his pained look at every camera flesh and dance floor. Sometimes, I wondered if the poor girl lived in a fantasy world of her own making and never noticed that she was the only attendee.

Certainly these mercenaries – who only looked like children but didn't resemble them anywhere inside – wouldn't be comfortable in her cotton candy coated world.

Seifer was fascinating as well, coming with his own array of monikers. The Sorceress' Knight. The Sorceress' Lapdog. The Commander of Galbadia Garden, though admittedly no one had heard or seen said garden since Balamb defeated it. I suspect that it was a twisted heap of metal somewhere in the Centra Plains.

Regardless, I came to know the heroes of the battle against Sorceress Ultimecia better than the general public. I learned that they were – in the barest sense – just a handful of human teenagers with their own fears and worries and struggles. Not like I hadn't guessed as much.

I settled into Balamb Garden with little fanfare, quietly sliding into existence here. At first, Leonhart and his crew hadn't known what to do with me except for the general, standing order of "watch him". I wandered the halls, found myself stared at by students and SEED alike, and inevitably found myself banned from the Training Center because I killed too many of the monsters and the students had nothing to practice against.

Even the shooting range didn't hold me for too long. I had noticed, on my previous wanderings, that their teaching in guns was not only lackluster, but sorely lacking. The students were not only pitiful, but pathetic. Most could barely hit the target board, much less the bull's eye. It was painfully obvious that marksmanship was not a subject given any focus in Balamb Garden. Kinneas was the only one who I had ever noticed demonstrating any talent and he had been borrowed from Galbadia Garden. And the few times I had seen Leonhart at the range, he was skilled as well.

It was that realization that eventually led me, one month after coming to stay in Balamb Garden not entirely of my own free will, to becoming an instructor on the Garden's payroll. Leonhart didn't quite trust me, but he conceded to my talents. And though I wasn't a SEED, I had been granted some kind of status that enabled me to teach their sorry students what it truly meant to be a gunman. Or woman, in some cases, as most of my students – especially the more promising ones – were female.

Cid would "shit a brick" so to speak (and in his own words) if he ever knew that I had become a teacher of all things.

In that manner, my position and place within Balamb Garden was set. And though Leonhart's attempts to provide a subtle babysitter for me were amusing, I pretended I didn't notice that was his intention. Besides, it gave me ample time to learn more about the children that had saved the world.

"Interesting," Quistis murmured, shifting in her seat as she crossed one leg, her eyes moving quickly over the lines of text propped up on her lap. "So you're saying that energy was crafted from the planet's... blood?"

I inclined my head. "In a sense," I explained, curling fingers around a warm mug of coffee, black with one sugar. "Except that in Gaia – _Gaea's_ – case, that blood is comprised of the souls of all living creatures. Including those with sentience. We called it the Lifestream."

"There's nothing about that in any of these books."

I sipped at the coffee, letting the strong flavor spill over my tongue. "Most of the books in this library date no further back than 3500. I suspect Esthar might have some even older, but again, this world has changed much in the past two thousand years. I wouldn't be surprised if the entirety of true history had been eradicated."

She adjusted her glasses, her eyes falling back to the book. "That is a shame," Quistis said quietly, one of the first to adjust to my presence despite my unusual appearance. I credited that to her mostly scientific and logical mind. "And Esthar... you said it used to be a place of learning?"

"Cosmo Canyon," I clarified, thinking warmly of Nanaki. My gaze shifted to the window, shafts of yellow sunlight pouring through it. "All of the greatest scholars gathered there."

A wind rose, fresh and pure, scenting strongly of salt and seaweed. Balamb Garden coasted over the ocean at the moment, heading toward its usual resting place near Balamb on the solitary, center island. That and word had it a certain tattooed blond owed his mother a visit. But you didn't hear it from me, according to Selphie.

Footsteps approached with the sort of exuberance that was jarring to the quiet recollection between Quistis and I. We both turned towards the door as Zell strolled towards the edge of the Quad – still in reconstruction -- a verifiable bundle of energy wrapped in what appeared to be aggravation.

"Quisty!"

The female sighed, reaching up and removing her glasses as her fingers fluttered against her forehead. "Zell. Haven't I said something about restraint before?"

He flashed her a fang-bearing grin. "Maybe," the martial artist hedged, only to flop down to the ground as if it were mattress and fold his arms behind his head. He rolled blue eyes – the color of the ocean – up towards her. "Whatcha doin'? Oh, hey, Vincent."

Zell didn't ascribe to the 'Mr. Valentine' polite distance that everyone else around me had adopted. I noticed that when it came to personal space, Zell took it more of a suggestion than a rule. Even stranger was that no one seemed to mind. The only person this didn't include was Seifer Almasy, the two blonds carrying a hate-hate relationship which seemed to stem mostly from bullying than anything else.

I tipped my head. "Good Afternoon, Dincht. Having a pleasant day, I take it?" The question was purely sarcastic as Zell's face barely concealed an annoyance brimming underneath.

"Weren't you with Squall?" Quistis added, reaching for her own cup and sipping at the tea she had brewed. It held a strong aroma, one of chamomile.

Zell made a rude noise with his mouth, his eyelids shuttering over his eyes. "Girlfriend's take precedence."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Quistis' mouth. "You mean she bullied you out of the way?"

The martial artist didn't immediately respond, his lips twisting with a definite sulk. Sensing that Zell wanted to speak with Quistis on a private matter, I decided to make myself scarce. Even if it was no big secret that Leonhart and his dearest love were having... problems.

Honestly, it didn't take a genius to see they were unmatched. With nothing in common, it seemed doomed from the start. One couldn't turn a mercenary into a prince. And one definitely couldn't turn a princess into a hardened killer. I fully believed that Squall only remained with Rinoa out of a debt. He owed her for the changes she had helped bring about in him, and for putting her in the position to absorb the Sorceress' powers. For all his cold, stoic nature, Squall was adept at misplaced guilt.

Much like someone else I knew.

I rose to my feet, gathering both of their attention. "Mr. Valentine?" Quistis said quizzically. Zell kept his comment to himself.

I made a show of checking the time on my phone, an outdated device compared to what the world used nowadays. "I have a class that begins shortly. We will continue again?" The last was more of a suggestion.

Quistis nodded, her eyes shining with interest, fascinated by the history I was relating to her. "Of course."

No further words were needed. I set my cup aside, sure some Trepe fan would come to claim it later along with Quistis', and departed, feeling Zell's eyes on me the entire time. He certainly was an unusual person. There was a brain – calculating and sharp – behind his exuberance. I didn't know why he chose to pretend to be otherwise.

"He looks worse, Quisty," Zell complained, probably when he thought I was out of earshot. Which would make sense for a normal human.

It didn't take a genius to figure just whom Zell was talking about. Their fearless leader, who wasn't, perhaps, so fearless after all.

The general populace never considered it; never wondered what effect saving the world might have on their heroes. After the enemy was defeated, and peace returned, and safety considered again, how many actually looked at the aftermath and truly _understood_? Rebuilding and restructuring. Returning trust where it was damaged. Restoring rule. Dealing with the consequences of a time of peril.

But while the world itself had suffered, what of the heroes that fought to defend it? I had been there; I had seen it close hand. Reeve drove himself to death trying to fix ShinRa's mistake. Cloud couldn't think about the past without pain in his eyes, pain that occasionally drove him into solitude, leaving Tifa to fret over a pain she couldn't heal. Barret's need to protect someone – _anyone_ – since he had failed with Dyne so badly before had ultimately led to his end as well. And the many scars on the heart of the other's.

Being a hero wasn't safe work. Especially to the psyche. And the longer I stayed here in Balamb Garden, the more I bore witness to the effects this battle had on the teenage heroes of it.

Squall, who occasionally stalked the halls at all hours of the morning, looking tired and worn but for all that, unable to sleep. As though the next enemy might be lurking around any corner, waiting for the moment of weakness to strike. Sometimes, the relentless energy was released at the Training Center. But more often, he had no outlet.

Irvine, who spent enough time in the shooting range to have thought to be living there. Firing round after round into the target, piercing the same spot every time, telling himself that this time, he wouldn't miss. Lack of official words had him attempting to leap from bed to bed, seeking a comfort that won't be found in such shallow encounters.

Seifer, who overcompensated for the looks of derision and fear by being an even larger asshole than was necessary. Who had obviously paid close attention to the way people shied away from him and his path but pretended he hadn't because his arrogance wouldn't allow him to appear defeated by anything, much less people's opinions of him.

Quistis, whose passion for teaching had grown so heavy on her shoulders it had become a burden. She looked into the faces of her students and promised herself that they would be strong, that they wouldn't falter. She took each student's future in her hands, vowing that no matter what happened, she wouldn't fail them. Not this time.

Selphie, who clung with overbearing tenacity to any of her friends at a moment's notice. As the only one who could get away with attacks of affection, she did so at any unannounced second, even the ever-stoic Squall. Gripping tightly, as though fearing if she didn't remind herself of their existence every day, they would slip through her fingers.

Zell, who trained until his knuckles were bloody, and watched – always watched – as his leader spiraled downwards and couldn't help him because that wasn't his place. That was someone else's. Zell was a time bomb, ticking, ticking, ticking, and a part of me feared what would happen when the numbers ran to zero.

Rinoa, who countered what she had seen by pretending it hadn't happened, that all she needed in the world was to cling to Squall's side and imagine a perfect life. White house, picket fence, two and a half kids, and Angelo at her side. And if she concentrated hard enough, a part of her could even forget the Sorceress abilities raging through her.

These children were so much like we had been that it burned, it ached in a way I wasn't sure how to express. In them, I saw my dearest friends, and that thought clenched so strongly inside me that I felt the echoes radiate everywhere.

They only served to remind me of just how much I missed them.

**\-- July 8, 4012 --**

The habit to roam had not faded, despite the brief sense of permanence living at Balamb Garden had given me. Even more so when the aching that flowed through my body proved to be unaffected by the judicious applications of pain medication. I refused to lie in bed and throb with strange pains, and in that, I would rise to my feet and wander the halls, thus the reason I knew Squall had the habit of doing so.

We stopped at times and conversed, usually of thing or another. His interest didn't lie in history like Quistis. Or in weaponry like Irvine. In most cases, it was I who talked and Squall who listened. He seemed to need that, some sort of stable influence that didn't require him to participate. I accepted his mute nods and his faraway look, knowing that he absorbed every word and locked it away into some categorical part of his mind.

Squall seemed most interested in hearing about my former companions. I could only speculate as to why. Perhaps because our camaraderie reminded him of the near-forced companionship that existed between he and his friends – separated by time and brought together again through circumstance. It was painfully clear that they didn't understand him as well as they should, but they were well-meaning, and it was clear that they were all family, in some way.

Just like I had been with Cloud and the others oh so many centuries ago.

The nights were warm, even with the controlled environment of the garden, and soon aches and overheating drove me from my quarters to roam the halls. It wasn't as late as it could be, still before midnight, but it was enough for the corridors to be devoid of students, all in their dorms for curfew. Except for those individuals in the Training Center of course.

The silence of Balamb Garden at night was perfect for contemplation, not that I really wanted to think about anything. I simply couldn't be at ease in the sterile confines of my quarters. I longed to breathe fresh air, and it was for that reason I headed to the second floor, east wing deck. We were still docked at Balamb, but I didn't want to actually leave the garden. The deck was the next best thing.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time on the deck.

Floor lights glowed softly, providing ample illumination. After curfew, the main lights in Balamb Garden dimmed to next to nothing, not that I had any trouble seeing. I supposed it was a method of both mimicking light and preserving power.

The elevator dinged with a quiet, muted sound and dropped me off on the second floor. Schoolrooms were empty, computers humming in stand-by mode, whiteboards holding the last of the lessons. And the door to the deck was open by just a crack.

Strange.

I reached for the handle, only to pause when voices floated to my ears. I pushed it open a bit further, carefully, and peered onto the deck.

Squall and Rinoa. A lover's moment, hmm? Except they were far from being locked in an embrace. Squall leaned on the railing, elbows balanced on the metal as he looked out beyond the garden. Rinoa stood with her back to the door, arms dangling at her sides, hands curling and uncurling.

"This isn't the kind of life I want."

"You knew what we were when you came here, Rinoa," Squall said, voice remarkably lacking intonation, but even I could see his shoulders tighten. "In fact, you sought out Balamb Garden _because_ we were mercenaries. That hasn't changed."

She let out a sound of frustration, her voice betraying her emotions, thick with something restrained. "I just don't see why you have to keep doing it. What's the _point_? Killing and fighting... don't you even want peace?"

"Peace is a loose concept," Squall said quietly, practically textbook. "And it's only ever brought about by blood and war. Timber is proof of that."

Ah, Timber. Rumor had it they were on fight for independence number five and counting. If I recalled correctly – thanks to Selphie's explanation more than anything – it was fighting for Timber that had brought Rinoa here in the first place. I didn't understand what the princess thought she was intending by joining Timber's struggle. Maybe to her it was just a game. Maybe she thought she wanted to do something. Maybe she never realized just what she had gotten herself into.

"Do you honestly believe that?" Rinoa demanded, aghast. She stepped forward, one hand rising to her chest. "Squall! You can't really think--"

He turned around, cutting off her words with the motion, and for all that his face was blank, there was a storm behind his eyes. "This is how I've been taught, Rinoa. How we've _all_ been taught. If the world was saved and run on ideals, then right now, Ultimecia would be here and not us."

Rinoa's hand fell, her gaze turning away, towards the wall. "I hate this place," she murmured, hands trembling. "I hate these kinds of places and what they breed. All I've ever known is the military thanks to my father, and I hated that, too."

Squall's arms crossed over his chest, a defensive posture. "Then why are you here?"

"If you have to ask me that, then there's something else wrong than my unhappiness," Rinoa retorted bitterly.

It occurred to me that I was intruding on something rather private and revealing. And yet, for the life of me, I couldn't tear my eyes away. It was something I had seen coming and a part of me remained curious.

It wasn't that I disliked Rinoa. I had simply believed that she didn't belong here. This wasn't her world. These weren't her people. This wasn't her sort of life. Did she ever honestly think she would be happy here? Or did she truly believe that she would be enough to woo Squall away from a life he knew and obviously accepted?

It was Squall's turn to not look at her, frustration etched into his classic features. "I'm not sure what you want from me, Rinoa. I can't be what you want me to be."

"I wasn't asking you to change. I just thought..." She broke off, frustrated by her own inability to communicate what she desired.

I could see his fingers, pressing tighter against the worn-in leather of his coat. "Thought what?" he said, softer now, a tiny tic leaping in his jaw.

Rinoa's shoulders hitched, a defining tremble, and even I was surprised she hadn't burst into tears. Perhaps I didn't give her enough credit. After all, she was courageous enough to stand against a Sorceress Bitch bent on world destruction despite having no military background whatsoever.

I couldn't blame her for not desiring this life. Personally, it was all I knew but I had the feeling that had I been raised a bit differently, I might have desired something else from life. But the thought of stillness and peace, of submitting to a life where my skills grew rusty and I did nothing but lament on the 'old days' made me shiver to the core. Boredom was one of the worst things my long existence suffered.

I'd rather not do it intentionally.

"I thought love was all we needed."

I bit my internal tongue on a sarcastic remark to _that_ , and I just knew Squall had to be as well. Someone like him... believing in love was like believing in peace. Another loose concept. I was certain that Rinoa's definition of love vastly differed from Squall's definition.

Squall sighed, his hands falling from their defensive position. It was a sound and motion of defeat. "Rinoa, you're not happy," he said, without inflecting any blame, simply stating an obvious face. "And I don't think I can make you happy. I don't think I know how. And..." Here, his face faltered, his stony expression cracking as he sought to find the right words. "I don't think I can learn either. Not without becoming someone else."

"It's not enough," Rinoa added flatly, dawning realization cresting over her, but also sounding as if she had already come to this conclusion. "I love you, Squall, and I wished – _Shiva! How I wished! --_ that were enough." She swallowed thickly and from her profile, I could see that her eyes had closed.

The fact that I had always believed it an inevitability did not make this any less painful to watch. Especially since I knew it was hurting the both of them so terribly. And ending like this was the worst – and in a way best – kind. There was no indiscretion, or awful fighting, or lies. There were still emotions, strong ones. And the problem remained was that they were two different people, wanting two different things, and somewhere down the line, there _would_ have been fighting and deceit. And it would have been all the more painful.

I felt like I had intruded long enough. I didn't need to witness the rest to know how it was going to end.

Squall opened his mouth to say something and I quietly turned away from the door, silent footsteps moving back down the hallway. The next classroom was open, if not dark, and I stepped inside, waiting for the two lovers – _former_ lovers – to finish their discussion. I leaned against the wall, arms over my chest, as I considered.

They were young. Different. And recently survived a perilous battle together. Not exactly the prime equation for everlasting love and happiness.

I didn't wait long. Not but five minutes after making my surreptitious escape, I heard footsteps heading down the hallway at a fast clip. But only one pair. Peering out, I watched as Rinoa headed back towards the lift, and no doubt her quarters. That the commander and his lover had separate rooms hadn't surprised me. No doubt his odd hours would have kept her up.

Assuming Squall would leave not long after, I prepared to wait just a bit longer. I wasn't prepared for the voice to slide into the silence, especially since I hadn't heard another pair of footsteps.

"Eavesdropping, Mr. Valentine?"

To my credit, I nether jumped nor showed my alarm. I merely slid into the square of light spread across the floor, finding that Squall stood in the hallway, staring in my general directions. Arms were crossed over his thin – too thin if you asked me – chest.

He had known I was there. Interesting.

I tilted my head. "Unintentionally."

Squall didn't even blink. "Unintentionally usually ceases once an accident has been noticed."

I was far too old to feel much shame for my actions; nor did I bother to try and hide it. "Unless curiosity replaces it."

"Curiosity..." He shook his head, gaze wandering away as chocolate strands drifted across his forehead. "I'm sure you have better things to gawk at then the quarreling between a pair of teenagers."

I chose the doorframe as a place to lean, keeping my voice soft so it wouldn't echo needlessly in the abandoned hallways. "It was more than just a quarrel."

All of Squall seemed to pause before he closed his eyes and lifted a hand, grinding his palm against one socket. "I would say break-up but that sounds too juvenile."

"It would be safer to say that she abandoned you."

I watched as the tremor worked its way through Squall's body, one of restrained emotion and violence. His jaw ticked. "And on that note, have a good night, Mr. Valentine." He turned to leave, even managing several striding steps.

"I didn't say it to be cruel," I continued, thinking Rinoa to be a foolish girl indeed. There was untapped passion with Squall, but then, one had to accept the outward stoicism first. "I said it to assure you that it was not your fault."

He snorted. "Isn't it?"

Squall was hurting; it was obvious to anyone with eyes to see. That he buried it behind a cold wall and acerbic comments was strangely familiar.

"That you and Miss Heartilly lack commonalities to keep you together is not your fault," I said, watching him closely. "Nor is it hers. It is simply a case of two people who find themselves traveling in opposite directions. It is inevitable that they do not meet." I paused, conceding one point. "Except perhaps on the other side of the world."

Stormy blue eyes – dimmed to a stone grey by the torrent of emotion swirling inside of him – focused on me. "And yet you called it abandonment."

My arms folded behind my back, fingers of one hand curling around the wrist of the other. "Only because it is obvious that you are in need of support right now and were, at the time, only willing to accept it from her."

Squall stiffened. "You certainly don't pull any punches, do you, Mr. Valentine?" he asked, but there was a touch of respect in his voice. His arms hung at his sides, slack but vibrating with tension.

"If you were to live as long as I have, you would have learned that subtleties are less important than frank responses."

The teenager nodded distractedly. "And so you thought to offer me advice?"

I fought the smile that tried to tug at my lips; Squall might consider it to be teasing rather than bitter amusement. "I _do_ have significantly more experience than you."

"Two millennium worth?"

"Something like that."

Squall made a noncommittal noise, still turned towards the elevator, but at least some of the tension had eased from his body. I had given him something to think about, something to consider.

A cough worked its way past my lips and I stifled it by directing the unasked for reaction to my shoulder. Raspy and dry, the cough was more annoying than anything. And it always brought with it an ache in my back, as though my very lungs were sore.

Rolling his head around as though to ease the tightness of his neck muscles, Squall flipped a hand over his shoulder. "I would say thank you for the advice, but I'm still not entirely sure it was welcome. Good night, Mr. Valentine."

"I sincerely hope you are not retreating to the solitude of your chambers, Leonhart," I countered, sliding completely into the hallway as Squall's slow, but steady stride carried him down the corridor. "Mr. Dincht is in the Training Center."

Squall paused, one grey eye regarding me over his shoulder. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that," he said, and paused again, head tilting to the side. "Or why you felt the need to tell me."

This time, I couldn't stop the smile. "He is a much better challenge than the local bestiary."

Snorting, Squall continued on his way, leaving me alone in the corridor. Finally. I contemplated heading to the deck as I had originally planned but after bearing witness to that emotional joyride – only without the joy – I decided to seek out some other form of entertainment. Perhaps the library. Quistis had shown me the back entrance as well as given me the clearance codes to enter it after-hours.

If anything, losing myself in the written word would be a useful distraction.

Decision made, I passed the door to the east-wing deck and headed to the little used corridor beyond it, mostly known for housing janitorial closets and extra storage space. And thanks to Quistis, I had also learned that there was a back, emergency staircase that deposited one in the archives of the library.

I rounded the corner, and nearly leapt out of my skin when I found another person standing there in the shadows. These teenagers and their ability to walk as silently as I were going to find themselves on the business end of the Dirge of Cerberus one of these days. They were damned lucky that my instincts had softened a tad over the years.

Jade eyes gleamed at me, lips twisted into an ever-present smirk as Seifer leaned against the white-washed walls, arms folded over his chest. One booted foot was planted against the wall, serving as a balance.

"So..." he began, tilting his head as he watched me draw to a halt, regarding him with the same intent he gave me. "Puberty Boy and the Princess are calling it quits, huh?"

"You don't sound surprised."

Well-built shoulders lifted and fell. "Saw it coming."

I inclined my head, agreeing completely. "As did we all. Except, perhaps, for the two of them," I added, quieter now. Surprised because this was the first time Seifer had initiated conversation with me since our first slightly aggressive meeting in the Quad.

Seifer smirked, an expression that suited him, even if it did succeed in intimidating half of the residents of Balamb Garden. And irritating the other half. "Yeah? Well now Chicken Wuss can get his heart's desire."

One eyebrow arched, seeking residence in my hairline. "You knew about that as well?"

He reached up, tapping his temple with one finger. "I'm not just looks, Valentine. There's a brain up here too."

"If only you'd choose to show it more often."

Seifer laughed, though the sound was half-mockery and less amusement. "Know what? I like you, Valentine. You have more wit than this whole school. Except maybe Squally-boy. But he's an exception."

Crimson eyes regarded him. "Don't tell me you're in love with him, too," I said, entirely dead pan, knowing Seifer – intelligent boy that he was – would read my sarcasm.

The boy burst into laughter again, truly amused this time, the deep, soulful laugh echoing in the corridor. "With the Ice Princess?" he repeated, adding another burst of laughter, lips pulled into a Cheshire grin. I half-expected him to slap his knee. "Damn, Valentine, I never knew you had such a sense of humor."

My own lips twitched, but I wanted for him to get a hold of himself before I continued, holding the same mild tone. "I take it that my query was off the mark?"

"It's not even in the same ballpark, sweetheart," Seifer returned, and thumbed at his chin. "Squally-boy's a good fighter, and yeah, he's the only gunblader so about the only other competition I've got. But I'm not in love with the poor bastard. I've got better taste than that."

"Then half the population of Balamb Garden as well," I commented, having witnessed as much during my stay here. If they weren't swooning over Squall – women and men alike I might add – then they were crushing hard over one of the other heroes. They all had their fan clubs, even if they didn't know it.

Seifer smirked. "Never been one to follow the trends."

"So I've noticed."

"Besides," we're just friends," Seifer continued, his tone taking on a thoughtful note. His fingers rubbed across the scar slanting between his brows, one that almost matched Squall's were it not for the opposite angles. "Though if you tell anyone that, you'll face the sharp end of Hyperion. We like everyone thinking we're bitter rivals. Makes things easier."

Strangely enough, I actually understood. "I can imagine," I said, and looked around pointedly. "And your reason for stalking this shadowy corridor?"

Seifer shrugged, pushing off the wall and letting his hands dangle at his sides, less threatening. "Same as yours probably," he said, the shift in position forcing the dim glow of the hall to highlight the dark rings encircling his eyes. "Better than tossing and turning on my bunk."

"Indeed. Insomnia strikes even the best of us."

Jade eyes focused on me. "Do ya always talk like that?"

I wasn't quite sure what he meant. He must have read my confusion because Seifer followed it by waving off his own comment.

"Never mind. You're an old man, so it probably makes sense. In a weird way." He closed the distance between us, stalking closer, never one to care for someone else's personal space. I supposed it was another method of intimidation for him. "You know, some people are afraid of you."

"What a coincidence," I countered, not one to be intimidated by a child of all things. Even if Seifer was eighteen and long past the age of childhood. "Because I seem to recall those very same people holding the same opinion for you."

To his credit, Seifer didn't even flinch. "You don't seem concerned."

"I doubt that there is a single individual in this building that could possibly do me any lasting harm," I returned dryly, and cock my head to the side. "I have no reason to fear children. Even those who try to lord over me with all of an extra inch in height."

For a moment, a half-tense silence swept between us, Seifer a mere armsbreadth away and matching me stance for stance. His cologne – whatever he named it – seemed to surround him and as I inhaled, I caught several whiffs of it. Dark and dangerous, just like the man himself. Fitting.

Finally, Seifer chuckled, dragging a hand through the short lengths of his blond hair. "Like I said, you've got brains. Personally, I don't think you're anything to be scared of either." He shrugged, gaze skipping briefly past me. "But fuck, what do I know? I'm just some Sorceress' lapdog."

I refrained from commenting on that particular land mine. It was clear it was something that niggled at Seifer. Not that he had lost, but that, in the end, he had been just a pawn. And for someone like Seifer, there was nothing that rankled more than the realization he had been as worthless as he always believed himself to be. Everyone believed Squall to be the emotionally weak one, and because of Seifer's loud, recklessness, had always thought Seifer to be the one better held together.

How wrong they were. Just as Tifa had never been able to truly see Cloud's psychosis, those surrounding Seifer and Squall could not understand that their perceptions were mistaken.

Seifer was not evil. To be ambitious, to desire something of your own to hold, to want power and to be respected... those were not evil intentions. Seifer and the rest of the residents of Garden were mere children raised to have these dreams. How can anyone fault them for becoming what society has demanded of them? And yet these mercenaries, these trained from children cold-blooded killers, would turn their nose up at Seifer's existence. At his very audacity to return to Balamb Garden after Ultimecia's defeat. Their opinions rankled at me in a way nothing else here had. Not even the suspicious looks pressed my direction bothered me half as much as the distrust painted into the faces of Seifer's own classmates and allies.

"I am an unknown entity. They are wise to be suspicious," I said instead, because as long as I had lived, the opinions of others had grown to matter very little to me. What did I care for the thoughts of someone I would outlive? "Any good soldier would remain wary in this unique case."

Seifer looked at me, a myriad of emotions fluttering across his face – he didn't hide his reactions nearly as well as Squall – before he laughed again. "Aye, though I don't think any of us have seen you get so much as irritated, much less pissed off enough to attack anyone."

And rightly so. Monsters and bitch sorceresses and time compression aside, these children had never borne witness to Chaos or my transformation into him. If I had things my way, they never would.

Honestly, I hadn't had cause to revert to any of my other forms in quite some time. There was little in the way of bestiary to challenge me. I couldn't recall the last time Chaos had eclipsed my mind. No wonder the demons were getting so restless, even if they did have all those magic spells to toss around in the back of my increasingly cluttered mind.

I cocked my head to the side. "That almost sounded like curiosity, Almasy," I said, wondering where Seifer was heading with this.

He leaned closer, something glittering behind his eyes. An invitation. My nostrils flared, unintentionally drawing in more of the mysterious scent that Seifer seemed to exude.

"I don't know. I think I'd like to see it. A bit of a challenge, ne?"

I couldn't form a proper response, my logic shorting out, before Seifer smirked and turned away, throwing a wave over his shoulder in a motion that strongly resembled Squall's. Except that while Leonhart stalked down the hall with the grace of a lazy panther, Seifer strode with confidence in every step. All that he lacked was the flutter of a tattered and well-worn white trenchcoat.

My eyes narrowed in contemplation before I realized that it would do me little good to waste time attempting to reason out Seifer's intentions. I didn't know enough about the blond, though I had the keen thought that something had just been born. Friendship perhaps?

Only time would tell. And fortunately, I had plenty of that.

* * * * *


	12. Chapter 12

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**Chapter Eleven**

**\-- September 22, 4012 --**

Mealtimes in Garden were always a trying affair. Partially because Balamb Garden was always adrift or wandering somewhere. Partially because the cafeteria was the only place to find food in the entire building. And partially because I had become something of a celebrity ever since my arrival here. I could never eat in peace.

The only saving grace was that I never had to suffer the attentions of the entire Orphanage Gang – as they had come to be known to themselves if no one else – at once. Conflicting schedules and missions had the friends rarely in Balamb Garden all at the same time, much less the cafeteria. An experience they had endured was sure to bond them together, even closer, but occasionally, breaks from one another were a necessity.

Today was no exception. I had wandered to the cafeteria seeking sustenance at a time I believed to be slow for the day. Between the lunch rush and the dinner crowd, when most students were still in a class of some kind or another and only visitors, SEED, and the occasional free instructor wandered the halls. I was one of those free instructors, my classes finished for the day.

I wanted a moment of quiet contemplation, where I could enjoy my meal in peace. Perhaps a chance to reflect on my circumstances. To the strange relationships I had been cultivating among the unlikely group of heroes.

Such as the almost teacher-like friendship I had built between myself and Irvine, due to our mutual appreciation of firearms.

Or the frequent discussions between Quistis and I concerning history, literature, and the connections between them. For moments of quiet contemplation with mature company and a cup of tea or coffee, the young woman always sought me out. I was willing to oblige, often times desiring much the same.

Or further, the strange, almost parental role I had taken in Squall's life. There were many times I had wandered across Squall's path somewhere in Garden and fallen into conversation, surreptitiously offering advice on any manner of things. He reminded me so much of Reeve sometimes – and myself – that it was almost frightening.

"Seriously man, you gotta try this," Zell insisted, drawing me from my reverie by jabbing a ketchup-slathered hot dog right under my nose. Even wrapped in a fluffy bun, I couldn't be enticed to eat the damn thing.

Squall sighed, reaching over to push the hot dog back towards the tattooed blond. "Zell, leave Vincent alone. Not everyone shares your adoration of phallic objects."

Zell's mouth dropped open and then closed and then opened again. "Did you just make a perverted joke?"

"It happens from time to time," the commander dismissed with a shrug, digging into his roast beef sandwich with great gusto.

I hid my smirk well, dipping a spoon into the thick potato stew that I had acquired for myself. For some reason, my body craved the spicy warmth at the moment. I watched discreetly as Zell watched Squall, not so discreetly, and Squall tried but failed not to notice the eyes on him. It amused me, watching these two men dance around each other like performing an elaborate waltz with no music.

Zell watched. Squall evaded. And the color red was becoming very, very prevalent at the table. It was almost... cute.

"Well, if it isn't Puberty Boy and Chicken Wuss together at the same table."

The voice, announcing himself with the same annoying flair as always, caused both Squall and Zell to straighten in irritation. Zell going so far as to puff up like a peacock, irritation dancing in eyes the same color as the sparkling sea.

"Seifer, you asshole--"

The hand on his arm stopped Zell mid-rant – Squall quieting him. The tattooed blond promptly blushed and his returning insult degenerated into a mumble as he reached for a hot dog and stuffed it into his mouth.

Obsession with phallic objects indeed.

Seifer snorted, and ignored both of his companions, instead focusing on me. "So, Valentine, you look bored. Interested in a spar?"

If this had been the first time he'd asked me, I would be surprised. But as it were, this would be the third or fourth occurrence. They were becoming a part of my routine, enough so that the SEEDs assigned to subtly "watch me" no longer had their feathers ruffled by Seifer's appearance.

However, it was something the Orphanage Gang had yet to realize was a constant occurrence and so, the ruffled feathers. Particularly on Zell's side.

Before I could respond, Squall frowned, brushing crumbs off his sleeve. "I don't think that's such a good idea," he said, in his sternest Commander voice.

"Relax, Leonhart, I do believe I can handle myself," I retorted, resisting the juvenile urge to roll my eyes. I was the _last_ person Squall needed to express concern over. I had the advantage of age and experience.

"I wasn't concerned about you," Squall said, lips twitching. His eyes had taken on an uncharacteristic twinkle.

I knew that there was an acerbic wit buried beneath that stoicism. "Ah, how true. Very well then. I shall try my best not to break your only competition."

Seifer snorted. "We'll see who does the breaking here, Valentine."

"This I've gotta see," Zell said, leaping to his feet and stuffing another hot dog into his mouth. The fifth – or was it sixth? -- I had seen him consume this evening. My stomach churned at the mere thought of it.

Squall rose to his feet.

"What? You coming, too, Princess?" Seifer demanded, one brow arching cockily. He cracked his knuckles noisily, as though itching for a fight. Something must have set him off, possibly an offhand comment or a veiled look from someone he might have respected once upon a time.

Squall didn't even bother to glare, letting the insult roll over and above him like water and oil. "Someone has to bear witness to the mighty Seifer's defeat," he said, perfectly straight-faced and humorless, though I could see his lip twitching in restrained amusement.

Rolling his eyes, Seifer turned away, his trenchcoat a swirl of white behind him. "Come on then. No need to waste time standing around here," he muttered, an annoyed set to his shoulders.

Amused, I followed along gamely, Zell trotting along afterward as we four headed for the elevator that served as a focal point for all of Balamb Garden.

Norg's former quarters had been altered into a training center complete with floor mats, equipment, lockers, and an impressive arena. It was to here that Seifer led us, Squall tagging along despite probably having commander duties to attend. No doubt he wanted to see Seifer put in his place, as Zell most assuredly did, bouncing excitedly already. Anyone with eyes could see that Seifer treated Zell like a younger brother, even if theirrelationship was filled with violence and insults.

Seifer just didn't know how to show proper affection. Or perhaps the better explanation would be that he considered himself too macho to do it properly. His arrogance wouldn't allow that show of weakness. Yes, that was probably the better reason.

I stripped out of my clinging attire, leaving me in nothing more than a plain shirt and a loose pair of trousers. For the sake of the duel, I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, sweeping the loose bangs behind my ears. This prompted a scoff on Seifer's part, but I ignored him. It was all part of Seifer's routine, to try and psyche out his opponent. Unfortunately, that tactic only worked on Zell.

Speaking of which, the tattooed blond and Squall had taken up a spectator position on the sidelines. The former danced from foot to foot, looking ready to become my own personal cheerleader, while the latter leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The perfect picture of indifference, or so he appeared. But I knew Squall was watching the both of us closely, no doubt cataloging strengths and weaknesses for future reference.

I watched as Seifer stepped into the ring, dressed down himself in a pair of drawstring sweats and a shirt that did little to conceal the muscular lines of his chest. He idly stretched, making muscles ripple invitingly, an arrogant smirk pulling at his lips. An _unfounded_ arrogance at that, considering I was the uncontested victor of our little spars.

Rolling my shoulders to loosen them, I tried to guess Seifer's mood to discern what type of duel he would invoke this time. Something quick and bloody? Something drawn out and planned? Judging by the sparkle in jade eyes, Seifer was in the mood to dance.

Fine by me.

We didn't speak, our minds already shifting into that space where every focus was on the feel of the ground beneath our feet and the rising tension in the air. I watched Seifer watch me, my boot sliding across the arena floor and I waited. Seifer would make the first move, he always did. His impatience exceeded my forbearance.

Seifer twitched and darted forward; I took a single step back, avoiding the powerful blow aimed for my jaw. To go straight for the face... I should have expected it. Seifer never pulled any punches only because he knew I could handle them. I shifted my weight, lashing back at him, but Seifer was quicker on his feet than most would suspect and whirled out of the way.

I gave chase, determined to strike the first blow. I often wondered what it would be like to spar against him with a blade. I had some skills in multiple daggers. Nothing like Yuffie and her shuriken or my abilities with firearms, but as a Turk, I had been taught how to use various weapons. And in trading physical blows with Seifer, I wondered how different it would be to cross blades with him.

I had yet to witness a spar between Squall and Seifer, mostly because they vanished to some unknown part of Garden or even off Garden to carry on. This usually prompted much annoyance on Quistis' part because she couldn't find Squall until he returned on his own. She always worried they would kill each other. I didn't think that she realized the unspoken honor that lay between the two.

Yes, they had been enemies. And yes, they barely tolerated each other. But they both shared the same weapon and they respected one another for that reason. To hold back in anything – even a simple duel – would be an insult. A sign that one or the other considered their opponent too weak that they had to be coddled.

But then, mercenary aside, Quistis was a woman and perhaps she couldn't understand that kind of machismo.

A fist clipped my cheek, dragging my attention back towards the spar. I felt the air as it rushed by and shifted my balance, lashing out with a high kick. Seifer danced back to avoid, his face covered in a light sheen of sweat. The grin on his face couldn't be denied however. He was having fun.

Somewhere, on the edge of the arena, Squall continued to watch silently as Zell whooped in excited celebration. As a martial artist, no doubt he was itching to dive out here and join us. But Zell hadn't been invited.

I regained my balance and Seifer came at me again, hitting hard and fast, each move purposeful and followed up by another possibly brutal blow. If I hadn't had centuries of experience on him, there was every chance Seifer would take me down one day. I almost looked forward to that.

The crackle of the PA broke through the rising atmosphere of the spar and I skidded to a halt, aborting my attack. Seifer smartly ceased as well, both of us keyed to listen. I watched as he grabbed the hem of his shirt, dragging it up to wipe at his face and revealing the rippled muscles of his abdomen.

Damn, but they didn't build teenagers like that when I attended the military academy.

"Commander Leonhart to the bridge!"

Squall sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Another mission, I suppose," he muttered without any enthusiasm at all. He raised his voice. "Come on, Seifer. You're going on this one."

The taller blond released his hold on his shirt, letting the rumpled mess fall back around his abdomen. "Oh? Ya trust me for that now?"

"I trust you'll get the job done," Squall corrected, already striding towards the elevator. "Hurry it up or I'll send Selphie with you."

Seifer rolled his eyes. "That's cruel, Leonhart."

"Then get your ass in gear."

Squall was already at the exit, hitting the keypad to call the lift down to the basement. Sighing, Seifer dragged a hand through his sweaty hair, face flushed from the exertion. He tossed a shrug my direction.

"Duty calls, Valentine. Hate to break up what was turning into a fine ass-kicking on my part," Seifer said with a smirk, all confidence and bluster.

The elevator donged to signal its arrival.

"Same time next week?" Seifer asked, already jogging towards the lift before the look of annoyance on Squall's face blossomed into anger and he really did send Selphie along for the ride, something only Irvine seemed to enjoy.

I didn't answer. Not that one was necessary. Seifer knew where I stood on that particular matter. Besides, I didn't feel that I could. Not at the moment. There was a tightening in my throat and an ache in my back. It prevented me from speaking, and it was all I could do to keep the attack lodged within me until they were beyond sight and hearing.

The paroxysms thankfully waited to strike until right after the elevator door slid shut on Seifer and Squall. I doubled over, coughing violently, knees weakening and holding strong by willpower alone.

Highly unusual, I wasn't sure what to think. They were dry, raspy, my lungs clenching down on each breath as though I were allergic to oxygen. My hair slapped against my sweaty face – even more strange, this feeling of exertion. This never would have happened before.

The fit was brief, as always, and I sucked in a slow, steady breath once it eased, trying to calm the clamping of my throat. Red sneakers entered my field of vision. Damn. I had forgotten that Zell remained behind.

"Dude, you really should go to the doctor," he commented, his tone deceptively light.

I shook my head, wiping the back of my arm across my mouth and swiping at the sweat that had gathered on my brow. "It's a simple cold."

He arched one brow, which, when coupled with that tribal tattoo, gave him a rakish appearance. "But you're the one who said that you don't get sick."

"Dust in my lungs." In truth, I had no idea what it was. I simply knew that there was no way in Hades I was going to see a doctor.

Zell looked at me, and I knew that he didn't believe me for a second. He was smarter than people gave him credit, and sometimes, even I forgot that. He tended to act like a reckless airhead so much that it was difficult to see the perceptive intelligence he had beneath.

"And I thought Squall had the monopoly on self-delusion." Zell shrugged. "But whatever. Don't listen to me. All I'm saying is that you should get it checked out before Seifer starts to worry."

This prompted an odd look on my part, not quite sure what Zell was trying to imply with that one. It was only recently that Seifer and I had made acquaintances and perhaps something of a friendship. To me, _Squall_ was easier to get along with. But then, us broody, moody types understood each other better.

Zell shrugged again, spreading his palms. "Just saying."

"Don't worry, Dincht," I said, straightening. "I've lived for two thousand years. I'm sure I have another dozen or so left in me." I reached for a nearby table, grabbing one of the towels that had been stacked there and using it to sop at the sweat painting my skin. A shower was definitely in order.

I felt the gaze between my shoulders more than saw it. "You know, you can call me Zell. Everyone else does."

"Seifer calls you Chicken Wuss," I reminded him, just because it amused me to do so and sometimes, even my humor sought to make a presence.

A glance over my shoulder showed me a picture of an annoyed Zell. "Seifer is an asshole," he muttered and folded his arms over his chest, muscles rippling nicely in his arms. Zell really was just one bundle of carefully corded power. "He doesn't count."

Feeling mischievous, I threw a sidelong look at Zell, lowering my voice in a way that I _knew_ drove woman – and many men – crazy. " _Zell."_

Predictably, he reddened. "On second thought, maybe it's better if you keep calling me Dincht if you're going to say it like that."

I tossed my towel over my shoulder, chuckling. Zell was _too_ easy.

**\--October 13, 4012--**

"Surprise!"

I stared. There were balloons... _everywhere_. And streamers. And food piled on tables. And huge posters saying, in varying phrases, 'Welcome' and 'Happy Birthday' and 'Please, Don't Suck My Blood'. My brain stuttered a bit on the last one.

And as I stood there in stunned amazement, I recalled being cornered by Selphie three weeks ago, the chipper brunette on a mission.

" _Vincent!" One hand waved wildly in the air. "Yoohoo! Mr. Valentine!"_

_I resigned myself to Selphie's presence before she became any louder, and crossed the extent of the Quad towards her. "Yes, Ms. Tilmitt?"_

_She giggled coquettishly, her eyes sparkling with mischief like always. "You know, I just realized that we never welcomed you."_

" _Probably because I was never really welcome here in the first place," I said dryly, a bit of my own acerbic humor creeping in._

" _But it's different now," Selphie said, nodding sagely. Her fingers found my arm, gripping lightly but in an attempt to show her sincerity. "Everybody agrees. You're one of us."_

_I blinked at the way she said it. One of them. How long had it been since I had considered myself part of anything? I couldn't deny that the words were enough to send a warmth through my body, wisping away the subtle ache in my bones. Of course, I didn't let my reaction show on my face._

_I settled for a teasing response. "Except that I'm neither a teenager nor a SEED."_

_One hand waved through the air in a dismissing gesture. "Pooh. Trivialities." And then she looked up at me, from beneath the fringe of her brown bangs. "On that matter, I also realized... I don't know when your birthday is!"_

" _I stopped aging at 27. I no longer count birthdays," I informed her, my mind spinning at the sheer effort it would require to actually decide how old I was._

_Her eyes rolled. "You can't just ignore your birthday, Vincent." Her fingers tightened as she leaned forward eagerly. "So... when is it?"_

_Selphie was relentless when she was after something. And I knew that if I didn't tell her, she would nag me about me for the next few weeks, months even, until I broke down. So I saved myself the irritation, I told her._

_It was at that point she got a particular gleam in her eye, one that didn't bode well for my safety. But rather than spout off some nonsense, she simply grinned and squeezed her arm._

" _That's not long after Quisty's," she said instead with a light chuckle. "Something you two have in common, ne?"_

"Surprise!" Another voice shouted, louder this time, pulling me from my recollections. Arms threw themselves over my shoulders in a particularly enthusiastic hug, heedless to the fact I wasn't inclined to accepting affection in such a manner. "Well, are you surprised?"

That exuberance could only be Selphie. "I'm surprised," I managed to grunt out, my eyes crossing at the sight of bright colors and sounds and good smells and the collection of dozens of people, most of them my students and acquaintances.

"Good," Selphie chirped, all bubble and brightness in her short dress decorated with dazzling, bejeweled designs and a crown of leaves tilted chirpily across her head. "It's a bit late, but better that than never, ne? So welcome!"

Either she failed to notice my lack of energy, or had already dismissed it. Nevertheless, Selphie turned from me with a twirl and thrust her arms into the air.

"Let the party again!"

A rousing cheer accompanied her proclamation, and soon, music spilled into the brightly decorated ball room. I still stood in the doorway, part of me stuck on repeat and another part of me half-afraid to enter. This was _not_ what I was expecting when Seifer dragged me here. And how in the hell had Selphie convinced Seifer to play along with this?

A chuckle echoed behind me, filled with amusement.

I whirled to face the blond, eyes narrowed. "You _knew_ ," I said, voice low to keep others from hearing the annoyance in it. "You knew and you dragged me here anyway."

Arms crossed, Seifer snickered, amused that he had managed to trick me into something. "Selphie is a beast at persuasion," he said with a fang-bearing smirk.

My eyes narrowed. There would be retribution for this. I promised it.

A hand grabbed mine, tugging me with a strong-armed jerk towards the center of the ballroom. "You have to let me introduce you!" Selphie enthused, giving me little choice in the matter.

"Tilmitt, I _know_ everyone," I reminded her through glittered teeth, my last sight of Seifer one of the blond waving goodbye mockingly.

My retribution would be swift, painful, and possibly bloody. And just for kicks, I would somehow involve Selphie.

**\-- December 29, 4012 --**

I found Squall on the bridge, not that I was looking for him but came across him in my midnight wanderings. The bridge was otherwise deserted, the many consoles in low power mode with the occasional emergency bulb lighting up the shadowy room. That and the light pouring from the city through the windows. We were currently parked just outside Esthar, a decidedly safe place, though it didn't take a genius to figure why Squall wasn't too keen on staying within the bright blue and pink city.

I never thought to ever see a place that shone as... colorfully as Esthar. And just like Squall, I was hesitant to visit Esthar. Especially the Presidential Palace where Squall's father had given him a standing invitation. Squall seemed mostly indifferent to Laguna Loire. Though considering he hadn't so much as seen his father for the entirety of his existence, I didn't blame him.

So why were we in Esthar in the first place? Because missing the birthday of the much-beloved president was something that could not be politically avoided.

That, and I strongly suspected Laguna had whined for a long time about being unable to see his son and hinting that he wanted to get to know Squall better. I could only assume that Squall had eventually caved, likely on Rinoa's and Selphie's (Laguna's biggest fan) urging as well.

Cold persona aside, Squall was weak to the requests of those special to him. Even if he didn't show it.

The brightness of Esthar cast a strange light on Squall's face as he stood in the bridge, just behind the main console. He was the very picture of a troubled leader, shoulders set and fatigue lining his face, even more now that Rinoa wasn't serving as a constant distraction.

"Might I offer a suggestion?" I posed, knowing that I wouldn't startle Squall. He had to have heard both the elevator and my footsteps, as I had made no attempt to hide either.

He glanced over his shoulder with a dismissing shrug. "I can't stop you."

Charming. If Squall didn't remind me so much of myself, I might have taken offense to that. But there was a lonely cast to his acerbic wit, and I knew a defense mechanism when I saw one.

"You are commander, yes?" I said, moving to stand beside him, my eyes sweeping over the view granted by the thick, wide-paned glass of the window. By Ifrit, Esthar was _bright_. "Then for lack of a more obvious word here, why don't you _command_?"

Surprised, Squall turned to look at me, face pinched with confusion.

I enlightened him. "You have many friends here, people you can trust. _Delegate_ , Leonhart. There is no rule that dictates you must be the one to sort through all the mission requests or mission reports or student evaluations and so on," I explained, though I wondered why I felt it necessary to offer Squall some advice. Maybe because I saw so much of WorkAHolic Reeve in him. "Your friends would be thrilled if you included them. Even Rinoa."

Ms. Heartilly had remained a dear friend to Squall, despite their mutual split. She spent her time divided between Balamb Garden, and occasionally disembarking to visit her father in Galbadia, or to participate in yet another independence talk within Timber.

Squall seemed thoughtful, as though honestly considering my suggestion.

I folded my arms behind my back, my mind skipping back several millenia. "I had a friend once who was very much like you," I added quietly, thinking of Reeve who Squall resembled in very many ways. "Only, he never learned to delegate. And before I realized what was happening, he died of stress-induced heart failure before he was fifty."

It had been a failure on my part, something I hadn't forgotten over the years. If I had been playing closer attention, if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my shell of indifference, I would have _noticed_. I could have done _something_. More importantly, I would have been there.

But engrossed in my own pathetic guilt, I hadn't noticed. I had been an absent presence. And I had never given him anything.

Squall looked at me again, something strange in his eyes. "Delegate," he repeated, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Quistis _is_ better at managing. And Rinoa does have a knack with politics. Perhaps you have a point."

"I know I do." I turned to face Squall, trying to prove a very important point here. I locked eyes with stormy blue. "This can be a career or this can be a job. You have to decide. I don't want to see you suffering to fix what you didn't break."

For a child, Squall's eyes could be quite knowing. And when they returned my solid look with equal understanding, a small, hidden part of me quailed in the midst of that piercing look. "This friend... he was more than a friend?"

"He was my lover if that's what you are asking," I said, unashamed, and if it helped Squall to understand better than I was willing to divulge. "And I hadn't noticed in time to save him."

"Maybe he didn't want you to know. Like he thought he was protecting you."

I turned thoughtful. "I wouldn't put it past Reeve to do something like that. Though I admit his reluctance to inform me or rely on me was my fault as well."

Squall was silent a minute. "Tell me about him."

I hesitated, my memories spotty and my heart trying to drag me back into the past. "Reeve was--"

_Amber eyes and big smiles and a beard brushing my jaw when we kissed and the smell of stolen hand lotion and laughter and lazy moments in bed and golden warmth and_ _**home** _ _and I look into his eyes, he doesn't ask for anything, and I love him, I swear to Shiva that I love him,_ _**why didn't I say it** _ _?_

"--the first lover I took after the war. He was formerly in ShinRa, but afterwards, made it is his personal mission to rectify ShinRa's wrongs by forming the World Regenesis Organization." My hands tightened behind my back. "It was his downfall."

"You loved him."

The tightening feeling in my chest had to be an illness of a sort. I was gripping my own fingers with a tenacity that surprised me, including the heat banking behind my eyes and the clenching in my throat. I hadn't talked about Reeve – except for bland recitation – for a long time. I hadn't stopped to think about him. I hadn't _allowed_ myself to think about him.

But now I was. Now I remembered.

"He never asked me for anything," I said, my voice toneless but my thoughts taking me back, back, back. "But I always said I didn't have anything to give." My tongue dragged over my lips as I swallowed thickly. "Regret is a crushing feeling, Squall. And your life is too short to turn anything away."

He looked away, seemingly fascinated by the blue glow of Esthar City before us, twinkling even in the dead of night. "You always dated men?"

"Date is a juvenile word, but yes, mostly. Except for one special case. When your DNA is altered like mine, you wouldn't want to inflict a possible pregnancy on a woman."

Squall seemed to be considering something as he looked at his hands, bare for once of their usual leather gloves. He also lacked his leather jacket, dressed down in nothing more than a pair of low-slung sweat pants and a white t-shirt. Slim and pale, he scarcely resembled the perfect picture of a commander of the most powerful, functional mercenary organization in all of Gaea. The fact that he was only recently eighteen added to my point.

"Irvine's actually smart when it comes to numbers and accounting. Selphie is a beast at organizing schedules. And even Seifer – arrogance aside – is useful in discipline."

I noticed that he hadn't mentioned Zell. Saying as much treated me to the sight of an uncomfortable Squall lightly blushing. He shifted in discomfort.

"Zell is a different story all together," Squall said finally, examining his palms as though they held the secret to his future. "He's..."

"Always there every time you turn around," I supplied, understanding Squall's confusion as I remember Leora subjecting me to much the same. "He doesn't ask. But he's there anyway. Even if you didn't know that you needed him."

Squall leaned forward, on the railing just behind the steering column. "Yeah, something like that."

"I don't suppose I need to ask that you've noticed his affections for you."

A slight, not-quite-amused chuckle slipped from Squall's lips. "Do you take classes in how to dance around a subject or does it just come naturally?"

"A little bit of both." I felt a smirk try to creep into my expression, but toned it down for the sake of offering advice where obviously Squall felt rather torn. "Would I be correct in assuming that homosexuality is frowned upon here? Or is it a personal misgiving towards the male in question?"

Squall considered, shoulders hunching as he leaned further over the rail. "Neither."

I hummed noncommittally, trying to pin together what I knew of Squall to what the normal reaction in this case would be. "Then it seems too sudden," I guessed, since he and Rinoa had only ended things six months ago and Rinoa still lingered, no doubt making the thought of any romantic liaison uncomfortable. "And you're still not sure of your own feelings."

"... Maybe."

Which for a Squall, was a yes.

My fingers tapped across the railing as I took up position on the other side of Squall, watching Esthar City hum brightly just through the window. "You have two options here," I began, still finding it odd to be in a position of the one giving advice. But _someone_ had to help these young heroes. "You could let your fear speak for you and linger in indecision until the chance passes you by – and it is _fear_ that's holding you back, Squall. Don't try and tell me otherwise."

He opened his mouth as though to say something, but I barreled on, not giving him a chance to deny that he was afraid of something as gentle and yet at the same time _terrible_ as love and romance and emotions and all that.

" _Or_ you could realize that life is short – even more so when you are in an occupation such as this and believe me, resurrection is not always possible – and take a chance. Who knows? You might find that it was worth it."

Squall didn't look at me. "Is it?"

For two little words, it was a pointed question. Especially when I applied it to myself. _Was_ it worth it? Worth the pain afterward, the knowledge of being alone again, the struggle to recover when they left me behind over and over. For under a century of warmth? For the little smiles and gestures and arguments and holidays and kisses and laughter....

Somewhere, in the back of my senses, I heard the elevator humming as it rose. And I strongly suspected I knew who was on the lift. If the fighter's Squall Senses were anything to go by.

"It is," I said softly, thinking of warmth that felt like home and crushing feelings of regret. "It's worth every minute of it. But I'll let you figure that out for yourself."

The elevator dinged and a body spilled into the bridge, prompting Squall to turn around. I didn't bother; I had already guessed the identity of the visitor.

"It's like, two in the morning, what the heck are you guys doin' on the bridge?" Zell demanded, nonchalant but painfully curious.

I chuckled, to myself more than anything, and stepped down from the raised dais, making a beeline for the lift. "Admiring the view," I said, passing by Zell. "Good night, Leonhart," I added, over my shoulder.

He lifted a hand in wordless farewell, most of his attention saved for Zell who was swiftly approaching. "And why aren't you asleep?" Squall asked, as surprised to find Zell there as I wasn't.

The elevator closed on Zell's answer, and I smiled to myself. Hopefully, Squall would take my advice on all things.

Coughing into my hand, I pressed the button for the first floor, finally feeling as if I could sleep.

* * * * *


	13. Chapter 13

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**Chapter Twelve**

**\-- February 28, 4013 --**

If someone had told me, two thousand years ago, that I would one day be standing at the head of a classroom and teaching the finer arts of firearms to two-dozen mercenary students, I would have chuckled darkly. And promptly filled them with bullets. To me, it would have been an insult.

How amusing that should be precisely what I am doing right now, explaining the ins and outs of your basic firearm by use of overhead projector and a diagram. The projector was a low, warm hum as I spoke, fingers tapping the respective section. I could feel two-dozen pairs of eyes on me – a good portion of them female – listening avidly.

Intro to Firearms was always interesting. It was the later classes where things got a little boring. Nearly everyone in Garden was required to take Intro to Firearms. It left me with a rather eclectic class. I bit back a sigh and refrained from looking at the clock; that would only serve to remind me just how much longer it would be until the end of this – my last – class.

"This is your basic handgun," I explained, tapping the end of my pen against the glass of the projector. "I shouldn't have to tell you which is the trigger and which is the barrel. There are, however, other components whose names aren't as well known."

Something tickled at the back of my throat, the heat of the projector a noticeable presence against my face. Dust motes danced a merry jig in the streams of bright light. I swallowed thickly to chase the strange feeling down, focusing on a diagram that suddenly blurred to my sight.

What the hell?

I closed my eyes briefly, opened them again, and focused. "This is the grip, and this here, the grip safety. It's always important to doublecheck your safety."

The tickle became an itch and I noisily cleared my throat, feeling as if something was pressing on my esophagus. My nose twitched and the diagram wavered.

I felt it erupt in my chest before it spilled past my lips and I turned away from the projector, directing my face towards the concealment of my shoulder. The cough rattled my entire body, along with a sharp stab of pain that jabbed into my skull and refused to cease. Dizziness came with the cough and my hand blindly reached out, grabbing the edge of the table and gripping hard enough for the fake wood to crack.

Blackness encroached as the coughing refused to cease. Something bitter and sharp danced over my tongue, dizziness assaulting me before I could stop it. I struggled to draw in a breath, it feeling much like fire. And my lungs refused to obey my commands.

What in Shiva's name was going on? In the back of my mind, the demons began a confused and slightly troubled conference with one another. A frantic murmuring that joined the dull roar in my ears.

I chanced a look at my shirt where I buried my face, alarmed to find bright spots of cerise against the dark fabric. Glistening and wet, fresh blood. I had only a moment to remark on this before another coughing fit beset me, tearing at my lungs and throat, making each breath a struggle. My knees weakened, buckling beneath me, and only providential hands kept me from hitting the floor.

"It's okay," a voice murmured in my ear, sultry and full of country twang – Irvine. "I got ya, Vince."

For a moment there, I almost thought it was Cid, until I remembered that Cid was dead and really, he was the only one I ever allowed to call me that and get away with it. But my body wouldn't allow me the breath necessary to berate Irvine for it. The coughing lightened, only slightly, allowing me enough time to suck in a desperate gulp of air, tasting bitter copper on my tongue.

I heard voices, dimly. A sharp tone issuing commands. The footsteps of two dozen students as they filed out of the room, worry emanating from their young forms.

Confusion found a way to worm inside of me, combating with the worry for full attention. With each passing moment, I gathered more and more control of myself, until I was able to breathe without blinding pain and accompanying dizziness. A trickle of blood dribbled from the corner of my lip and I swiped at it, staring as though I had never seen the sanguine fluid in my life.

A hand pressed to my chin, forcing me to face a pair of vivid, violet eyes. "You coherent again?" Irvine asked, his eyes narrowed in thought as he perused what had to be a pale face.

I forced myself to speak, even though part of me feared it would send my body into another paroxysm. "What....?" Predictably it came out more of a croak.

Irvine, looking serious and lacking his easygoing smile, thinned his lips. "I'm taking you to Dr. Kadowaki."

"No," I forced out, trying to break away from the hold he had on me but feeling a strange weakness in my limbs. They didn't want to obey my commands. Damn, but Irvine must have his strength amped by Ifrit right now. "I'll be fine in a moment."

He didn't seem convinced. "Yes. Because coughing up blood is an everyday occurrence in your world."

"Well, no, but that's no reason to be has--" My words were cut off as Irvine dropped his hand from my chin and spun, a firm grip on my arm dragging me down the hallway in an undignified fashion.

Only my composure kept me from yelping in surprise. That and the tightening of my throat as it threatened to spasm once more.

Students stared from doorways as Irvine bodily hauled me down the corridor, including those from Irvine's class and those from mine whom Irvine had obviously dismissed whenever this... whatever it was, attacked me. Obviously, Irvine didn't understand that it would go away on its own soon enough and there was nothing to be concerned about. But there was a particular set to the gunslinger's jaw and this was a man who could stand against Selphie and say 'no' so I wasn't particularly inclined to try and argue with him. At least, not here.

At Irvine's fast clip, his boots like a loud, tapping cadence against the tiled floor, we reached the Infirmary in record time. Dr. Kadowaki, saving me from horrid flashbacks in that she was a woman with a pleasant smile and an underlying scent of cinnamon and pumpkin, looked up as we entered – or burst into the Infirmary more like.

"Mr. Valentine," she greeted, rising to her feet and sweeping her glasses from her forehead down onto her pert nose. "I never expected to find you in my domain."

I fought down a cough, just because I could, and drew in a slow, steady breath. No clenching of the lungs. Good. "I didn't expect to find need to come here, outside of your company of course," I returned, twitching where Irvine still kept an iron-clamp grip on my wrist.

The young man rolled his eyes. "Don't listen to him, Doc. He's a master of self-delusional bullshit just like Squall. There's something seriously wrong with him."

Kadowaki's eyes slowly moved between us, taking in our varied states, before seeming to focus on my shoulder. Admittedly, I had forgotten about the blood splashing the cloth there. No doubt her eagle sight would latch onto it instantly.

She looked at us over the frame of her classes. "I was under the impression Mr. Valentine was of the... self-regenerative sort," she said carefully, obviously deliberate in her wording.

"I am," I insisted, ignoring Irvine's attempt to insert his own two gil's worth. "Kinneas is unnecessarily concerned."

"Unnecessarily concerned!" the gunslinger sputtered, his voice raising in volume. "You were coughing up blood and ten blinks from losing consciousness!"

I sighed, and the tickle at my throat threatened to rise again. A feeling like pressure swelled in my chest; I tried to ignore it. I doubted there was anything that Dr. Kadowaki could do. I was as much of an alien to her as Jenova had been to us all those centuries ago.

Kadowaki's eyes seemed to pin me down. "Expectorating blood, Mr. Valentine?'

I fought the urge to sigh again. "It was only a brief happening. And the first time at that."

"Even so, I feel that I should run some tests."

My shoulders sagged before I could stop them. If there was one thing I hated, it was the sound of 'tests'. Even if Dr. Kadowaki didn't resemble Hojo in any shape or form, the infirmary still carried a similar stench of antiseptic and unguents and the prevalence of white coats. I held no interest in confining myself to one of her rooms for _testing_.

Still, a truth niggled at the back of my mind. Blowing my own brains out with the Dirge of Cerberus hadn't been able to kill me. I hadn't once been ill since waking in that coffin and emerging from that nightmare. Temperature shifts had never been noticeable. And now they were. Now I occasionally carried symptoms of a common cold.

Perhaps I could concede to a few tests.

"I promise," Dr. Kadowaki continued, likely sensing my hesitance. "Apart from drawing blood, all of the procedures will be non-invasive."

In the end, I allowed the doctor to do as she wished, though I watched every move she made with an avid eye I normally reserved for battle. She didn't seem offended by my wariness, and made certain to explain everything she was doing. Scans of my lungs. Blood work to check for toxins and illness. A swab with a cotton tip on the inside of my cheek. Listening to my breathing. Checking my heart rate. And various others.

I didn't cough again. I supposed that the anxiety over Dr. Kadowaki's examination left me breathing shallowly and not irritating whatever had caused the irritation in the first place.

Several hours later, I sat across from Dr. Kadowaki with Irvine in a chair next to me – the gunslinger refused to leave me to myself, convinced I would flee at the first instance. He was probably right. And I watched as the doctor examined the results of her tests.

"Well," she began carefully, and that was never a good sign. "I see no evidence of illness. Your lungs are clear and there's no sign of infection in your blood. Your heart rate is normal, perhaps a bit slower than the norm but then, I don't really have a baseline to compare it with since your physiology is different from the average human's."

All things I already knew.

"So," Irvine dragged out the syllables, slinking lower in his seat as he reached up to tip his hat further back. "What does that mean?"

"There's nothing physically wrong with him," Dr. Kadowaki stated bluntly. "Aside from the throat irritation and coughing up blood, he's perfectly healthy." Her eyes skipped to the side however, falling on one of her sheets of paper as though reconsidering her statement.

I shifted in my chair, the cushion-less seat lacking in comfort, as I suspected all doctor's chairs were meant to be. "I'm sensing a 'but...' in there, Dr. Kadowaki. You have reservations?"

For the first time, the doctor's perfect composure echoed a faint discomfort. "You're not ill," she repeated, "but some of the tests have come back... unusual."

"Unusual?" Irvine echoed, straightening as he realized this might be important.

"Unusual for someone of Mr. Valentine's constitution," she clarified.

Dread sought to make a home in my belly. Without taking my eyes away from Dr. Kadowaki, I spoke to Irvine. "Kinneas, if you would please."

The gunslinger looked between us. "Ah, Vincent, you can't be serious--"

"I am." I glanced at him briefly, certain that whatever Dr. Kadowaki wanted to tell me was something only I needed to know.

Muttering something under his breath – a rather creative curse if I heard it correctly – Irvine shoved out of his chair and stormed towards the door. Only to pause in the entryway, one hand on the frame. "Don't keep it to yourself, Vincent. We might be able to help."

I highly doubted that, but if it made him feel better, I dipped my head in assent. Irvine vanished seconds later, leaving a dry tension in the air between the doctor and I.

Folding my hands in my lap, I pinned her with my most serious stare. "I have lived for over two thousand years, Dr. Kadowaki. Be blunt."

She nodded, and reached for her glasses, folding them and placing them flat on the desk, covering her multiple readouts and papers. "Then let me be frank. I am a doctor, Mr. Valentine, and not a scientist. So I can only speculate. But from what I can see, your cells are... deteriorating."

I turned this over in my head. Deteriorating. As in breaking down. As in no longer regenerating.

My fingers intertwined in my lap, grasping one another. "I am dying," I said, with startling revelation.

And there are no words to describe the emotions that coursed through me. Stunned amazement at first. Relief. Joy. A crushing sense of peace. And then lastly, concern. Worry for those I would be leaving behind. Though, by all accounts, this was a process that could take months, years, centuries. One couldn't say.

"I wouldn't call it dying in the true sense of the word," Dr. Kadowaki continued. "It's not as if you are ill or old age has caught up to you. It's simply that your cells no longer have the energy to continue replicating. Not even the magic can support them, or your..." She grasped for a word.

"Parasites," I supplied, for that was what I had always considered my demons. "It is understandable. Magic is fading in this world. The further the life stream sinks, the less powerful my demons are." My eyes skipped to the window, cheery with yellow beams of sunshine. "It makes sense."

The chair creaked as Dr. Kadowaki shifted. "I think that's the first time I've ever seen someone take the news so well."

"You were the one who said my body was tired," I said quietly. "For me, it is not only my body. It is everything else as well." I closed my eyes briefly, letting the reality of the situation trickle slowly over me. "How long?"

"I can't say. It could be weeks. It could be years."

"Either way, it's inevitable." My eyes slid open as my hands uncoiled. "I trust this is confidential?"

Dr. Kadowaki looked at me, offended that I would think otherwise. "I have been a doctor for a long time, Mr. Valentine. Please do not insult me."

My lips dared quirk. "I meant no affront. I have simply cultivated a strong wariness of those in the medical profession." I rose to my feet, tipping my head in a light bow. "Thank you for your counsel, doctor."

"I would tell you to be careful. To avoid anything that might strain your body, including forcing it to heal a mortal wound, but I have the feeling it would do me little good." Her fingers tapped across the wooden top of her desk.

"Vincent."

It was the use of my given name that prompted my halt more than anything. I glanced over my shoulder.

The doctor had risen to her feet, her gaze locked on the window as her palm flattened on the desk. "You should tell Squall and the others. Even if you do outlast them."

She had a valid point, but I wasn't sure I was ready to go that path yet. True they had become something like family to me over the passing months and true I had grown unusually attached to them so quickly. But dare I worry them over an inevitability? Would they understand how much this meant to me?

I inclined my head. "I will consider your advice. Thank you." I paused before leaving, something old and bitter in me still stalling in hesitation. "That blood sample you took...?"

I caught her wry grin as she spread her hands, glancing from the corner of her kind brown eyes. "What blood sample?"

I was beginning to think I could like this woman. "Never mind," I deferred, and took my leave, mind deliciously calm and at ease. One would expect it to spin, to collapse and collide, but I was filled with such... peace, that I couldn't fathom any other reaction.

Seifer was waiting for me outside of the infirmary, looking casual were it not for the tight set to his shoulders. His arms were crossed over his chest, effecting an air of nonchalance that failed miserably in the wake of his deep frown.

"Were you looking for me?"

The blond lifted his brows. "Ran into the cowboy. He said something about bringing you here."

It figured. Irvine would no doubt tell everyone, meaning I would be pressed for details. I would have to find him later and express the need for absolute secrecy. If he wanted to keep my trust, he would keep my secret.

I repressed the sigh that threatened to spill from my lips. My throat was tickling again. I had the feeling this was going to be an annoying, common occurrence from now on.

"There's nothing to concern yourself over," I said, not thinking to reassure because Seifer wouldn't want to admit that he was worried. "Kinneas overreacted."

That smirk belonged better on Seifer's face than restrained concern. "As usual." He cocked his head to the side. "So... interested in another spar?"

"Are you that hard up for entertainment?"

He fell into line beside me, his quick stride keeping even with mine. "More like you're the only challenge I have here." Seifer's hands dove into the pockets of his well-fitting jeans.

I didn't fail to notice the eyes that still shied away from Seifer as though he were going to break out and attack at any moment. The only challenge? Yes, that. But perhaps his only true friend outside of the strained relationships he shared with the others, Fujin and Raijin excluded.

I considered Dr. Kadowaki's words. Exertion would only speed up the process. But I had no inclination to spend the rest of my existence watching each and every action. What was the point of prolonging an already extended existence?

"Very well," I said, casually tossing aside the doctor's warning. "I'll meet you at the arena in ten minutes." I wanted to change first, and find Irvine of course. No doubt Seifer had noticed the stain on my shirt. But he wasn't the sort to ask questions. He would wait until I was willing to offer answers.

His charming grin was a response that made something inside of me flip in a way I had come to recognize over the years.

Well, wasn't _that_ interesting?

**\--April 12, 4013--**

Pain rocketed me out of a dreamless sleep. I flailed in the covers until my own frantic motions threw me off the bed, not that I noticed the subsequent thump my body made on the floor. I was too busy writhing as wave after wave of pain struck my body. I bit my lip bloody in an attempt to restrain the howls, curling up into a tiny ball.

Then the paroxysms hit, cough after cough, blood spilling past my lips. Dizziness struck as the need to breathe warred with the desperate desire to escape the sheer agony in my body. Like teeth of fire digging into my skin. Something gnawed on my innards. Hell, even my _hair_ hurt and I couldn't focus past the blinding ache.

I panted, growling low in my throat, white-hot brightness flashing behind my clenched eyes. My foot kicked out, slamming against the bed and sheets entangled helplessly around my twitching form.

Dear Shiva, the pain... I had never experienced anything of this magnitude. Not even when Hojo inflicted his tortures on me. Not even when he twisted my body to his liking. There was nothing to describe this excruciating agony.

And then just as suddenly as it swamped me, the pain vanished, leaving behind nothing but a throb throughout my entire body. I felt as if I were one big bruise, and drew in several big breaths, trying to calm my aching lungs. More coughs tried to tear from my throat, but I bit down on them, the taste of blood making my stomach rebel.

I lay in stunned agony, staring at the digital numbers on my clock, brightly announcing the earliness of the morning. There was a strange feeling resonating through my body, that of a lonely emptiness. As though I had moved on and left something important behind, something I couldn't' reclaim again. I had lost _something_ , only I didn't know what.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my frantic heart, searching my thoughts. Taking a mental catalog of the various aches and pains and injuries. I had scratched myself, just now I felt the stinging on my arm. It wasn't healing nearly as fast as it should, blood oozing from the rather deep wound. My lower lip was swollen and tender to the touch. My head ached where I had collided with the floor.

Something was missing.

With great effort, I sat up, struggling to disentangle myself from the mess I had made of the covers. It required too much work to return to the bed, so instead I sat on the tiled floor, the chill of the air conditioning blowing over my heated body. I felt as if I raged with fever, my body strangely weak.

I pressed my ice-cold fingers to my forehead, the simple touch feeling ridiculously soothing. My skull was throbbing, but the feeling of lacking something was so disruptive I couldn't ignore it.

The answer hit me like a wave of freezing cold water, swamping over my shoulders and dripping down over me.

There were only three voices in the back of my head. Normally, this would be a cause for celebration. And in a way, it was. But to me, it was a further sign that something was definitely wrong. I couldn't hear Galian anymore, and the more I searched my thoughts, the more I realized he simply wasn't there. Nor were the magic spells I had junctioned to him.

It was as if the purple demon had... vanished.

The realization left me dizzy. Try as I might to discern the reason or the meaning, I couldn't.

Galian was gone.

**\-- June 28, 4013 --**

My feet skidded across the ground, kicking up streams of dust that tickled my nose and made my lungs clamp. I ignored that reaction, throwing up my arms to block the barrage of blows Seifer aimed my direction. These spars were more dangerous for me now that I lacked the stamina Galian's DNA had given me, but I wasn't about to tell Seifer that. I had only recently realized it myself.

Let him think I was as strong as I had always been.

I ducked under a powerful swing and twisted, jabbing an elbow into Seifer's abdomen. He grunted, absorbing the blow, and made a grab for me. But I was already darting out of the way, planning my next move. Perhaps a quick whirl, a low kick, knock Seifer to the ground and pin him.

In fact, I would do just that.

Seifer gave chase, as I knew he would, and I suddenly dropped, sweeping out one leg and knocking it against the unsteady hinges of his knee. Seifer cursed as one leg toppled out from under him, upsetting his balance enough that an open-palmed blow with both hands knocked him backwards. He hit the ground with a defining thud, kicking up more dust and I wasted no time in attempting to pin him.

One knee pressed into his solar plexus, causing Seifer to gasp before he could restrain himself. I cracked my knuckles, looking down at the sun-kissed blond, who struggled to shield his eyes from the gleam of daylight streaming down above us.

Sparring outside was definitely preferably to the dank, dark of the basement. Which always briefly took me back to another basement and another time, several centuries past.

"Do you yield?"

Seifer scoffed, not in any way resembling a beaten man despite being beneath me. His voice became a dangerous purr. "Conceding defeat has never been my style."

I cocked my head to the side, shoulders heated from the baking the sun was giving them. "Maybe you should start."

The blond dragged his tongue over his lips, shifting faintly beneath me, but strangely, not making an effort to get away. "And start another bad habit? Nahhh."

I rolled my eyes. "Seifer..."

He interrupted me with a look of absolute shock. "Whoa. What the hell is that?"

To my credit, Seifer had never tried such a cheap trick before. So when I turned to look over my shoulder, I didn't expect for him to suddenly heave his body upwards and tip me over to the side. Had I my former strength, it never would have happened. But I still hadn't adapted to a regular human's abilities.

I hit the ground with a stunned grunt and suddenly Seifer was there, his fingers curled around my wrists and pinning them to the grass-spattered dirt. I blinked at the sudden change in position, looking up into jade eyes and an expression of intent.

"Pinned ya," Seifer stated, one knee pressed between my legs and the other on the outside of my hip, pinning me in place.

I gingerly tested the strength of his hold, but unfortunately, I was a gunman, not a swordsman. Upper-body strength wasn't exactly my forte. "That was a cheap trick," I reprimanded with a frown.

"Had to get you under me somehow," Seifer retorted, leaning closer until I felt the heat of his breathing wash against my face. He smelled of sweat and something else, some exotic spice that seemed to exude from his pores.

And I was pretty damn sure that was a come on of some kind. Something I never would have expected to emerge from Seifer's lips. At least, not directed towards me.

Breathing stuttered, I forced myself to calm, my body attempting to react to the warm presence flush against mine when it had been decades since the last time a person had touched me like this. "I fail to see why you'd desire it."

Seifer's eyes narrowed briefly, searching my face for something, I wasn't sure what. "You're not that oblivious," he muttered.

I didn't think to turn my head or otherwise avoid him. So when his lips descended on mine, I allowed the kiss, something inside me desperate for this kind of contact when I had gone without for so long. My fingers twitched as his mouth slanted over mine, lips surprisingly soft and gentle for a man who usually displayed such blunt force.

It ended quickly, just a bare brush of our mouths, before Seifer drew back, his eyes searching my face. On my part, I wasn't sure what to think or do. On one hand, I was immensely flattered; Seifer was a terribly attractive man and we had grown closer since my arrival at Balamb Garden. On the other, I was terrified. Not only because I was dying, but because I wouldn't – no, _couldn't_ – be left behind again. And I didn't know which would come first. This was the first time I had experienced uncertainty in that regards, having always been certain of my immortality before.

"In case you didn't notice," Seifer said, his voice noticeably rough and wary, "That was me coming on to you."

I had noticed. I returned his gaze evenly. "Why?"

He shrugged, not moving any further back, his face still incredibly close. "Because I don't have anything to lose... and a little birdy told me you have some interest in men."

By little birdy, I could only surmise Quistis. Outside of Squall, she was the only one who knew of my past acquaintances, and Squall wasn't one to spill secrets. Not that it was a secret, but more of a private matter.

"But not children," I reminded him.

"I'm not a child," Seifer retorted.

My eyes shifted to the side, a much safer direction than looking into Seifer's eyes, their jade passion trying to convince me. "We've had this discussion before."

"If you didn't want it you would have just decked me. Ifrit knows you're stronger than me." Hands tightened around my wrists, not threateningly, but to focus my attention. "Look, Valentine, are you attracted to me or not?"

Attraction wasn't the problem here. I'd have to be blind to not notice Seifer's allure. He was an intoxicating mix of handsome masculinity and stubborn pride. He was intelligent but reckless, full of fire compared to my icy existence. And where I would have preferred to linger in the shadows, Seifer was the sun that drove them away so that I had nothing to hide behind. It was frustrating and infuriating, but altogether wonderful, somehow all at the same time.

Yes, I had probably fallen into lust a long time ago. Perhaps even something more. But I had been ignoring it for his protection and for mine. I was dying. I didn't know how long in the future it would take. If Galian's disappearance was any indication, perhaps shorter than I could be lead to believe.

And if it proved to be longer, once again, I would be left behind. I would have to watch as another person I cared for turned old and grey without me. I would have to say goodbye again. I would have to try and pick up the pieces of myself and keep trudging along.

Could I do such an awful thing to Seifer in return? Have him watch me die? Seifer was still just a child, even if he was an adult in numbers and actions. And he had already seen too many terrible things for me to subject him to that.

And yet...

And yet, surely Seifer had to know all this. He was aware I was no normal human. Even if he didn't know of my eventual mortality, he had to know that something was different. And he had made the first move anyway.

I sighed softly, feeling defeated before ever knowing there was a battle to fight. "Vincent."

Seifer blinked. "... What?"

"If you insist on pursuing this course, I would prefer to be called Vincent."

Lips curved into a slow smirk. "Fine then. But only if you stop calling me Almasy like it were some title rather than just a second part of my name."

"I'll settle for brat then."

For the first time, an honest smile took over the blond's expression. "I can take that as a yes then?"

In answer, I closed the short distance between our mouths, sealing our lips together in a kiss far less chaste than the one he had given me. Seifer didn't seem to mind.

**\-- August 17, 4013 --**

I was showering when it struck me for the second time, a pain like none other, only familiar because of the single time it had happened before. My knees buckled, sending me crashing to the tiled floor, heated water beating down upon my nude body. I slid across the soap-slick tiles, scrabbling for purchase even as my entire body spasmed.

My vision went black, unconsciousness or something similar, I wasn't sure. I still felt the excruciating pain, dimly registered that I coughed again, spewing blood and bits of something else onto the shower floor. The water was painted a garish pink as pieces of phlegm clogged the drain.

It felt like something was trying to tear its way out of my back with claws and teeth, stabbing pain like a thousand needles over every inch of my skin. I heard my ragged breathing, echoing in the emptiness of the shower, even over the sound of the falling water.

I blacked out. That was the only way to describe it. One moment, I was utterly aware of the pain lancing my entire body, and the next I was surrounded in black warmth. I floated in that nothingness for quite some time, watching three lights dance on the edge of my vision – green, yellow, and red.

They bobbed back and forth, like fireflies over a still pond. And as I watched, one of them began to sputter and fade, a fire losing its fuel. Yellow flickered before vanishing completely, swamping me in a sense of loss so great that I faltered. I crumbled under a crushing feeling of losing something important, something that I needed.

When I woke, it was to a pounding headache, a prevalent smell of blood, and the feel of cold water falling needle-like against my skin. I sat up with a groan, feeling the back of my skull where it was tender and warmly damp, with blood not water. I wasn't healing anywhere close to my usual speed.

My hand snapped out, heavy as lead, shutting off the flow of freezing water. In the resulting silence – broken only by a few faint dripping noises – I struggled to pull myself together. My body ached dully, as though I had been beaten by a whole gang of children with metal baseball bats.

As this feeling wasn't wholly unfamiliar, I knew what I had to do next, and I was grateful Seifer was away on a mission, rather than invading my personal space as he preferred. While I shakily hauled myself to my feet, grabbing a towel to wrap around my soaked form, I searched my mind. To be expected, I was missing something.

Death Gigas was gone. It made sense, in a way. Galian, the weakest of them, was the first to go. And Death Gigas was the next weakest. If things continued in this vein, Hellmasker would be the next to go. And Chaos immediately following. I had the feeling that Chaos' disappearance would signal the end for me. Not a pleasant thought.

I sighed, contemplating a potion to ease the aches, and dried myself off. This was going quicker than I anticipated. Not that I had any basis to go on. Why was it happening? I didn't know. I could only hazard a guess.

One thought remained prevalent in my mind. Whether I liked it or not, I was dying, and sooner or later, the truth would emerge. I dreaded that day.

* * * * *


	14. Chapter 14

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**\-- September 14, 4013 --**

Hellmasker chose to vanish when I was in the middle of cooking dinner for Seifer and myself. It took my greatest effort not to fall forward into the hot oven, and had only a few seconds of lucidity to slap off the dials before I crumpled to the floor. My legs had lost all strength, becoming like jelly beneath me.

The pain wasn't as nauseatingly agonizing as before. Instead, it trickled over me like a furious heat, searing at my skin and stealing my breath. I didn't even cough this time. Instead, it stole my breath until I gasped for air, twitching on the floor, my vision fading in and out. I flopped around like a fish out of water, desperately reaching for something to steady myself and finding nothing.

I ended up on my back somehow, not that I could remember, and my entire body bowed as something pulled free of my chest. I couldn't see anything, but I felt myself jerk as an invisible entity broke out. There was no blood or gore, but the accompanying pain was enough to make it feel real.

I gasped, bit down on my lip to contain my cries, and told myself to hold on. That it couldn't last any longer than the other times. That my straining muscles would relax in just a minute. All I had to do was hold on.

The frantic clenching of my body eased after what seemed like an eternity later. Except that I had lived for millenia and I truly knew what _forever_ felt like. I gasped like a dying man starving for breath, my body collapsing against the ground. In the five minutes or so since the fit hit me, I had broken into a sweat which covered every inch of my body.

Weakness prevented me from doing anything more than rolling my head to look at the clock. I had twenty minutes before Seifer was due to arrive, eager to taste one of my concoctions. I hoped I could move before then.

I let myself lie on the floor, the smell of garlic teasing at my nose. Luckily, I was mostly done cooking. The pasta needed to drain, but otherwise, I was done. Still, this was rather inconvenient.

Only one presence remained in my mind, the strongest of the four and easily three times as powerful as Hellmasker. I wondered how much longer it would be before his grip on me faded as well. Were they leaving me of their own volition? Or was something else removing them? I suspected it had something to do with whatever binding agent Hojo had used to trap the demons in my body.

I drew in slow breath after slow breath, calming the frantic beat of my heart and the lingering ache. My chest was sore, as if someone had punched me. I had the feeling that had I the energy to lift my shirt and check, there would be a bruise there.

Time was running out. I needed to tell Seifer. Or someone. Irvine was getting relentless in his urging to explain to everyone. And I couldn't hold out for long. Not with my coughing fits becoming more frequent. Blood was a taste so familiar to me that I barely noticed it anymore.

My arm dragged over my forehead, blocking the bright overhead light from beaming into my eyes. I wasn't looking forward to that conversation in the slightest. I sighed, dreading the time when I would have to tell Seifer the truth.

I waited for my body to recover. And by the time Seifer arrived twenty minutes later, I was up and moving about, setting the last of the necessities on the table. If I walked slower than usual, and with great caution, my lover didn't seem to notice. Thankfully.

An enthusiastic kiss served as a greeting, Seifer's attack of affection more suitable to something lecherous rather than a simple salutation.

I should tell him now.

"Damn, Vincent," Seifer said, breaking away from the kiss to sniff the air much like a bloodhound scenting its prey. "When you said cook, I didn't know you meant _cook._ "

"What did you think I meant?" I returned with a wry crook of my lips. "That I was going to order pizza?"

The large blond shrugs, dragging fingers through his hair. "That's what happened the last time someone said they were going to cook for me. I arrived to find a kitchen full of black smoke and a box of pizza on the table."

One eyebrow raised. "Who, pray tell, was that?"

"Back when I dated Rinoa," he said dismissively, already heading into the kitchen/dining room with eagerness dogging his steps.

Aside from the fact that he had dated Rinoa before the war and then she latched on to Squall, it irked me that no one had cooked for him since. But then, Seifer was the Sorceress Knight. The epitome of evilness, second only to the Sorceress herself.

Funny how so many people seemed to miss the fact that Squall was a Sorceress Knight, too. Then again, _his_ Sorceress didn't go on a rampage to destroy the world and time and everything as we know it.

"Consider the source," I teased, following him into the dining area.

I watched as he settled himself down, staring boggle-eyed at the lasagna and garlic bread and salad. I really should tell him.

"Damn, this looks good," he grunted, and started digging in with gusto.

Maybe after dinner...

Except, after eating, Seifer wanted dessert and cornered me somewhere between the bedroom and the small bathroom. His kisses tasted like tomato sauce, garlic, and ranch dressing, heated and hungry. My body was too eager to respond to that warmth, to the comforting feel of another human being when echoes of desolation still coursed through me. It bothered me how empty I felt without those demons inside me.

I tangled my fingers in short strands of blond hair and deepened the garlic-laced kiss, feeling Seifer's rumble of encouragement through his body. He pressed against me, all heat and passion, and I forgot about the important things I was supposed to be saying. Instead, I focused on finding the nearest flat surface, pushing him down onto it and latching teeth and lips on his throat, an action which never failed to make his back arch and a sexy groan pass through his lips.

I would tell him later.

**\--December 21, 4013--**

The air was crisp and clear, the sky a light blue despite the clouds marching on the horizon, determined to bring more of the wintry weather that Trabia seemed to attract like metal to a magnet. I breathed in deeply, letting the cold infiltrate my lungs, doing much to ease the near-constant clamping.

I could hear Selphie's excited shouts as she all but raced towards the recently rebuilt Trabia Garden, Irvine following after her at a much more sedate pace. Balamb Garden had parked nearby, joining Trabia to celebrate their annual Snow Festival. Any reason to celebrate in Selphie's opinion, though how she had convinced Squall I was never going to ask.

"Hey, Vince!"

I turned, and got a faceful of cold, wet snow. Stunned, I reached up to wipe the sodden mess from where it clung to my cheek, the heat of my glare searching out the perpetrator.

Zell was laughing his ass off, cheeks tinted scarlet with amusement. Before I could so much as stalk his direction, a snowball went flying through the air, beaning Zell in the side of the face. The martial artist squawked, flailing in surprise. And I traced the trajectory back to Seifer, who looked a little too full of himself.

"Seifer! You asshole!" Zell shouted, shaking a fist in the gunblader's direction, even as he dropped to scoop an armful of snow from the ground.

"You threw the first one, chickie!" Seifer retorted, tossing something up and down in his hand.

I didn't even blink before Seifer chucked it at Zell, striking him squarely between the eyes and causing Zell to drop his bundle of snow. The martial artist's arms pinwheeled as he fell backwards in the snow, legs flying up in the air.

Seifer turned towards me, jade eyes incredibly amused. I quirked a brow. "What? Did you think you were defending my honor?"

"I thought something like that would be beneath you," he said, wading through the snow towards me.

Only to be struck solidly in the side of the head with another snowball, one compacted enough that it collided with a dull thud and didn't immediately dissolve into mush.

"Snowball fight!" A voice declared cheerfully, hopping up and down as a bright yellow blur in the corner of my vision. Only Selphie could be that enthusiastic.

Jade eyes swung her direction, a playful growl swirling in the gunblader's throat. "Why you...."

Selphie squealed in surprise, ducking behind Irvine who served as a rather tall target for Seifer's return fire.

"Oy! I wasn't even in this!" Irvine protested, spluttering at a mouthful of snow.

"Too late, Kinneas!" Seifer retorted, already packing another good snowball.

He never noticed Zell sneaking up behind him.

The moment Zell dumped the handful of snow down Seifer's shirt, the playful fight degraded. Seifer tackled Zell, Selphie joined the fray with a war whoop. Irvine sauntered their direction, nonchalant, only to smush a handful of snow in Seifer's face.

Meanwhile, I stood on the sidelines, refusing to be dragged into this childishness. Apparently, so did Quistis and Squall as the former just watched with increasing amusement and the latter shook his head, stalking towards Trabia Garden with something muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately for the both of them, their lack of participation wasn't appreciated by the four fools already rolling around in the wet, freezing snow. Someone, I couldn't tell who from the tangle of limbs, threw a ball of snow in Quistis' face. Another, I could only guess Selphie by the girlish giggle, egged her to retaliate.

And just when Squall seemed about to escape, he was attacked by a yellow, snow-encrusted blur, Selphie grinning and declaring loudly that Squall was "on her side".

I turned on my heel and made for cover, determined not to witness any more of this ridiculous nonsense. Even if it was incredibly amusing, and well, heartening to see the children act like children for once. If I had to guess, I would say it had been years since they had acted as such. Camaraderie blossomed behind me, a sense of broken things merging again, laughter ringing in the crisp air. That Seifer was included without an ounce of hesitation warmed me.

A rocky outcropping covered in a thick layer of snow served as ample protection. One piece of stone jutted out further than the rest and provided a wonderful place to sit and rest as I listened to the epic battle take place. Laughter and shouts and shrieks and roars of anger (along with a hefty dose of curses, mostly from Seifer's end).

At this rate, we would arrive in Trabia long after the celebration had started. Not that I minded. Large groupings of people had never been my forte and I only attended because Selphie had requested rather politely.

Something warm abruptly collided with me, driving me to the ground and out of my thoughts. I fought back on instinct alone, my palm popping against a jaw as I dug an elbow into the softness just below the ribs. There was a grunt of pain before my wrists were grabbed and pinned to the snow, a larger body straddling me.

I had a moment to recognize my attacker before lips descended over mine, a tongue aggressively pushing into my mouth. I half-considered biting Seifer as payback for the sudden attack, but settled for returning the kiss with equal fervor, forcing Seifer to meet me on equal terms. He always attempted to dominate at first, until I turned the tables and showed him how useless such a venture truly was.

My teeth nipped at his lip, the feel of the cold seeping through my clothes and into my skin. I fought off a shiver, determined not to show my weakness.

Seifer's hungry mouth broke away from my lips to trail a string of nipping kisses along my smooth jawline. The sound of shouting and laughter pierced the fog of warmth that Seifer's touch cascaded over my chilled skin.

I jerked my head back, away from his lips. "Seifer!" I hissed, body tensing as I prepared to throw him off me.

"We're behind a snow drift," he reminded me with a huff. "No one can see us." And his head dipped, trying to seek my lips again.

I turned my head, wondering if it was just my imagination that the voices were getting closer. "That's not the point."

It wasn't so much that we had hidden our relationship from the others, but that I didn't feel it necessary we announced it either. I wasn't an exhibitionist by nature, even if Seifer was, and I knew he annoyed me on purpose. Seifer showed his affection by getting a rise out of others and more often than not, Squall and I were his favorite targets.

A mouth wandered to my throat, nibbling over the pale skin there. "Aw, come on, Sunshine. Let me do you."

Aside from the ridiculous nickname, of which origin I still hadn't derived, I wasn't really surprised by the request. "Do me?" I repeated, hiding my amusement. "How elegantly put."

Seifer lifted his head, tossing me a rakish grin. "It can be an early birthday present."

I blinked. "It's your birthday?"

He shrugged, as though it didn't mean much to him at all. "Tomorrow. Yeah."

"I didn't know," I replied quietly, because usually, birthdays around here were celebrated by huge parties and hoopla thanks to Selphie. They were planned for days and everyone looked forward to them. And yet Seifer's was tomorrow and I hadn't heard so much as a rumor about it?

Seifer grunted in dismissal. "It's just a bargaining chip, Sunshine. So... you gonna let me?"

I sighed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Let me up. There's a rock digging into my spine."

The blond leered, shifting his knee forward. "Just a rock?"

I purposefully held back the lusty groan that bubbled in my chest, unwilling to let Seifer see how much he affected me. Seifer was handsome and he knew it, his ego nearly on par with Irvine's.

"We have a festival we are supposed to be attending," I reminded him, attempting to sound stern but failing miserably. Seifer knew I didn't want to go to that celebration anymore than I wanted to fall asleep here in the snow.

He nosed into my throat. "Hmmm. Cold, happy-go-lucky festival with a bunch of people I don't know or a warm bed with bare skin and someone I know _very_ well. Choices, choices."

"Seifer..." I sighed.

Jade eyes looked at me innocently. "Yes, Sunshine?"

"Let me go," I replied, putting as much seriousness into my voice as I could muster.

Hurt flashed over his face before he abruptly released my wrists and drew back. I sat up, rubbing at my wrists and listening to the snow caked on my back fall off with loud clumps. Seifer attempted to rise to his feet, but I grabbed the front of his shirt with my hands and jerked him towards me.

I was treated to the sight of his surprised expression before I kissed him thoroughly, my tongue sweeping past his lips and into his mouth. He made a sound of surprise before greedily returning the kiss, trying to turn the tide back to his favor. But I had been alive for far longer and I knew far more tricks.

Seifer made a sound of pleasure in his throat, and I held back on my smirk. I would be more than happy to show him more, back in the room. Let the others have their festival, I had something far better.

**\-- December 22, 4013 --**

"Surprise! Happy – whoah!"

I jerked awake, in much the same manner as Seifer did, the excited giggling pulling me from a hazy sleep. I blinked, peering through a half-awake fog to see Selphie standing slack-jawed in the doorway to Seifer's quarters, her hands raised mid-air and hanging there. Bits of confetti fell slowly to the ground like multi-colored rain.

Seifer grunted, eyes peeling open from where he lay sprawled on his belly, splayed across the bed like someone collapsing on the mattress from an all-night binge. "Who...?"

I patted his bare shoulder, right over a highly visible red mark that showed faint impressions of teeth. "Just Selphie. I think we broke her."

Said female finally blinked, moving into action like a toy whose gears had finally been wound. "I'm not broken!" she said indignantly, stomping one foot against the ground. She pointed one finger at us accusingly. "How dare you keep such a hot secret from me!"

"For exactly this reason," I said with a sigh, noticing her nearly gleeful expression. She looked as though she were going to tackle us both here on the bed, despite the fact we were obviously nude beneath the dubious concealment of our sheet.

Selphie jumped in place, her lips stretched in a wide grin. "Oooo, you naughty boys! I oughta--"

"Didn't you have a reason for barging in here uninvited?" I asked mildly, too old to be embarrassed by this situation. And Seifer didn't appear to care, his eyes closing as though he fully intended to go back to sleep.

Selphie frowned briefly, her hands planted on her hips. "I was trying to invite the birthday boy to his party! But I see he's having one of his own." She giggled.

"Tilmitt, get the fuck out," Seifer growled without opening his eyes.

"Awww, but Seifer..."

He lifted a hand, flicking it in her direction with a rude gesture.

Selphie pouted. "Fine. But you better come tonight! I spent all week planning this."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

"And Vincent, you have to come, too!" Selphie added with a firm look my direction that would have made Squall proud. Honestly, the brunette would make a wonderful dictator someday.

I nodded, knowing far better than to argue with her. "Of course, Selphie. Now, if you would please... a little privacy?"

She brightened, though she seemed interested in lingering. "Yeah, sure. Enjoy!" Selphie grinned, throwing a hand over her shoulder in goodbye.

The door slid shut behind her with a cheerful chime.

Seifer stirred, making a disgusted face. "Ugh. Why am I in the wet spot?" he complained, trying to shift over but finding he didn't have much else where to go.

"Because you fell asleep and refused to be moved," I replied logically, leaning over to drag my fingers down his spine, watching as bumps raised in my wake. "More importantly, how did Selphie get your door code?"

"Sunshine, it's _Selphie_ ," he replied, as though that explained everything, arching his back into my touch much like a cat would. "It wouldn't surprise me if she knew everyone's door code. She's the best hacker this side of Gaea."

I made a noncommittal sound in my throat and pressed my lips to his shoulderblade, feeling his muscles flex beneath my touch. "I told you they wouldn't forget."

Seifer snorted. "I hoped they would," he muttered, hips shifting restlessly.

I had to smile to myself. I knew Seifer and he would have stayed in bed all afternoon if he could. But I planned to give him incentive to _rise_.

"Liar," I accused, my lips traveling to the nape of his neck where I knew Seifer to be particularly sensitive.

Seifer chuckled, tilting his head to grant me more access. "Never can get anything past you."

"Of course not. I am both older and wiser after all," I retorted, my fingers skating down the length of his back to brush over a well-muscled buttock.

He shivered, a throat purr vibrating in his throat. It was all the invitation I needed.

\-- **March 12, 4014 --**

It felt good to hold a weapon again, especially for more than training and instruction. Even if my body couldn't bear the Dirge of Cerberus' recoil anymore, the Outsider worked just fine. However, I required myself to be more alert than usual. I couldn't just absorb attacks like I had in the past. With Hellmasker and Death Gigas gone, I was not only open to magic but to status effect changes as well.

Never would I have expected to reconsider their loss as I was at this moment.

With a muttered curse, I leapt backwards, avoiding the sharply spiked tail that whipped through the air. It stabbed the dirt where I had just been standing, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Eyes narrowing, I fired several rounds at the red-armored creature that pinned beady eyes on myself and my companions, considering us a tasty meal.

"Pay attention, Vincent!" Irvine shouted, echoing gunshots signaling that he had taken an opening. Fire exploded against the creature, an odd cross between a land-dwelling lobster and a scorpion.

A keening screech split the air.

I shook my head. I _was_ paying attention. It wasn't my fault that my body didn't respond to my commands like it used to. I could already feel the fatigue pulling at my limbs, trying to drag me down.

A shouted "booyah!" joined the noise of battle as Zell danced around carapace-covered legs, ducking towards the soft underbelly of the strange beast.

We had been hired to dispose of the beast terrorizing the shores of Dollet, and I had volunteered to go on the piddly mission because I was half-desperate to leave the confines of Balamb Garden. I felt like my skills were getting rusty. Obviously, I was right.

My skin prickled and I sensed the magic before I knew it was being cast. I quickly threw up a Shell, bathing my body in the bright pink light, but I wasn't prepared for the strength of the magic that this creature threw out. A brutal twist of wind and water shot out in all directions, forcing all three of us to duck for cover. I dove behind a rusting old truck, detritus from the abandoned part of town.

The metal creaked and groaned under the attack, and salt water sprayed my face. I gritted my teeth. This thing was taking longer than it should for being a simple monster. Was it my imagination or were they getting stronger?

"Zell! Vincent! Hit the deck!" Irvine shouted, and I felt the breath-stealing force of a larger magic being summoned.

He had called one of his Guardian Forces, and Siren by the feel of it. I could hear her musical melody already pouring over the makeshift battlefied. Water splashed in a brief, but eclipsing wave, and the beast shrieked as the acid-like liquid poured over it.

I dove from behind my cover to throw out a defining blow, knowing that Siren's attack wouldn't be enough to kill it. I lifted Outsider, aiming for a beady eye, when the lance of pain shot down my spine. I couldn't even gasp, much less make a sound, as Outsider dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers.

It felt like something were trying to rip itself free from my body and I dropped to my knees, not caring that I struck something hard enough to pierce my clothes and shove through my knee. Blood spilled, the smell bitter, and I scrabbled at my shoulders as though trying to keep them attached to my body.

The sound I heard had to have been my own breathing – ragged and desperate – and when I looked, my own blood dripping was an eerie cadence. My awareness faded, focused inwards where Chaos clawed and bit and howled to remain. Only then did I realize what their disappearances meant for them – an erase in their existence.

His wings shot out, the webbed tips brushing the corners of my conscious. I watched him snarl, archaic words bursting from his lips, eyes gleaming a fierce ocher. I didn't need a translator to know what he meant. He refused to leave, his claws and talon digging into the fine grain of my inner conscious.

Outside my thoughts, more pain lanced my body. I jerked, spasming uncontrollably, fanged teeth biting down into my lip until I tasted blood. No coughing this time, small favor.

Chaos shouted, roared, the smell of sulfur rising stronger and stronger. His muscles heaved, chest straining with exertion, and then it felt as if his eyes caught mine. Narrowed and angry. As though he blamed me for what was happening. Not that I could do anything to stop it, nor did I want to. I was more than ready for this nightmare to end.

He began to vanish, the edges of his appearance rippling like a heat mirage, before Chaos dissolved like dust in the wind. Until nothing remained but a small pile of sand grains on the floor of my inner conscious, swept away by an invisible wind. But it couldn't sweep away the pain. It increased, if that were at all possible, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

It was an agony more than the human body could contain, and I, for one, was grateful when darkness slid over me. I fell into it gladly.

I never even heard the death throes of the beast, or the worried noises of my companions.

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**\-- March 14, 4014 --**

I woke two days later, lying on a hospital bed and aching as if I had spent the last forty-eight hours buried under a pile of bricks. Every limb and muscle throbbed with lingering pain, and it hurt to move, much less twitch. The simple act of peeling open my eyes forced brightness into my irises and I winced at the searing pain.

"Vincent?"

"Light," I croaked, attempting to say something more coherent, but my parched lips refused to cooperate. " _Off_."

A moment passed before something clicked and the room was cast in a blessed dim. There was still some light in the corner of my vision, enough for me to make out the features of those leaning worriedly over me. But it no longer burned.

A hand cupped my cheek and I jerked away from it as though touched by needles. The hand recoiled so quickly one would have thought I slapped it.

"Vincent?"

My dry tongue dragged over my dry lips. "I'm awake," I rasped again, desperate for something to drink. Water, juice... vodka. Somehow, this felt like a day for liquor. Even though my rolling stomach would have expelled it immediately.

Someone was smart enough to hold a straw to my lips, and though it took great effort, the relief of pouring cold water down my throat was wonderful. I felt a bit more human after that, and far less hung out to dry. But I couldn't deny the truth. Chaos was gone, and with him, the last of my immortality.

There was no hiding the truth now. They would have to know.

I tried to identify the blurs hovering over me. Selphie. Irvine. Possibly Zell. My eyes flicked past them, around the room, catching brief sight of Quistis poised in a chair and Squall leaning nonchalant against a wall. I couldn't see Seifer. At least, not immediately.

"What happened?" Zell demanded, sounding strangely hostile. A few bandages were slapped here and there, but otherwise, he seemed fine. No thanks to me.

And suddenly, the words seemed much too difficult to say. Only Irvine knew the truth, and when he laid his hand on my arm, squeezing lightly, I knew what he wanted me to do.

"Vincent," he said warningly, something in his amethyst eyes seeming far, far older than it ought to. "If you don't tell them, I will. Hyne knows I can't keep this farce up any longer."

I sighed, knowing Irvine was right. Even if I didn't want to do this. Looking into Selphie's worried expression and catching sight of Squall's concern, I really didn't want to do this.

"Help me sit up," I asked, one elbow sinking into the mattress of what I recognized to be the Infirmary.

Selphie and Zell quickly offered their help and soon I was perched against the headboard, pillows protecting me from the harsh lines of the wall. I glanced down at my body, saw the bandages that encircled my arms, blood a dark strain in the pure white. I wasn't healing anymore. That should have been their first clue.

"Vincent," Selphie said softly, her warm hand falling over my fingers. "What's going on?"

Her touch hurt, but I held back my flinch. If it comforted her, than all the better. I couldn't very well tell her that the simple brush of cotton against my skin stung like a thousand nettles.

I sighed again, very uncharacteristically. I knew of no other way to say it than to be blunt. "I am dying."

There was silence, followed by a scoff. "Yeah, real funny, dude," Zell said with his usual lack of tact, but I was grateful for it.

I spread my hands, showing the wounds that had yet to heal. "It is no joke," I admitted, my eyes fallen to the lines of crimson. I wouldn't admit that I was afraid to read their expressions, emotions already sitting heavy on my heart. "Whatever magic has held me together all these years has reached its end."

A chair creaked as someone shifted. "What do you mean?" Quistis asked softly, a touch of confusion in her voice.

Frankly, she was no more confused than I was. I couldn't explain it. I could only give them what I had surmised for myself.

"I don't know what science Hojo used. Or what magic. But I can guess that it was the demons that gave me longevity and supernatural abilities." A wave of pain radiated through my body and I paused, breath hitching. "The bonds that held the demons connected to me have shattered. Their presence has vanished."

Zell frowned, flopping back into a chair and causing the metal to scratch loudly against the tiled floor. "I don't get it. That shouldn't kill you immediately, should I?"

"The human body was not built for extended life," I explained, or at least, said what I had discerned for myself. "The toll of two millenia is showing."

Zell stared, stunned, his expression echoed by that of his friends. I dared look at them, and regretted that choice immediately. Quistis' hands were tangling in thick knots of dread, and Irvine's face was downcast, hidden largely by the brim of his hat. Selphie had lost her excited bounciness, even her flipped hair losing some of its curl. Squall's neutral expression couldn't hide the look in his eyes and Seifer... Seifer wasn't even glancing in my direction.

Squall was the first to recover, drawing in a slow breath. "How long?" he asked quietly, and rather steadily at that. Though I didn't fail to notice the subtle clenching of his hands.

I shook my head. "I don't know." A cough wracked my body then, drawing blood to my lips that I used the corner of the sheet to wipe away. It didn't hurt as much as before, the ache no longer a sharp sting so much as a dull throb. Not a good sign. "But I imagine... it's not long."

"Dammit!"

The curse startled everyone, but no more so than the fist that suddenly crashed into a wall.

Quistis' brows drew together in worry, already lifting a hand. "Seifer--"

He batted away her fingers before she could even touch him, shaking his head. He said nothing, instead storming towards the door, yanking it open, and slamming it shut behind himself. He left silence in his wake.

Squall shook his head, moving off the wall. "I'll talk to him," he muttered, following after Seifer without waiting for confirmation. Which was rather decent of him as I didn't think I could give chase to Seifer. Not in my current condition.

The hand covering mine squeezed gently, dragging my gaze towards Selphie. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?" she asked, before her eyes shifted to Irvine, narrowing in displeasure. "And _you_ could have mentioned something, too!"

Irvine shrugged, spreading his hands helplessly. "It wasn't my secret to tell, Selphie."

"Don't blame him," I said. "I wanted to tell you myself, and admittedly, I was waiting for a good time." The sigh I attempted to suppress escaped again and I paused, taking in a slow breath as my lungs spasmed. "I didn't know it would happen so quickly."

I wanted to say more, but the pain that radiated up and down my spine prevented me from doing so. I closed my eyes, riding out the stabbing agony by twisting my fingers in the sheets. I hated showing such weakness, even if it was only to these five.

"Maybe Rinoa can do something," I heard Quistis suggest, and I had to repress a smile. They would never give up if there was a battle to be fought, but they would realize in time.

I had lost this fight a long time ago. And it was hard to put up a struggle when I didn't particularly want to. These children – Squall, Seifer, Zell, Irvine, Quistis, Selphie, and yes, maybe even Rinoa – were precious to me, important in a way I never would have expected for a mere two year acquaintance. And I cared deeply for Seifer. But I was still so very tired.

I wondered if any of them could understand that.

"Or even Dr. Odine," Selphie agreed, an excited chirp to her voice. "I mean, he's crazy, but he knows a lot about science and magic and all that."

"And you know Laguna would be _thrilled_ if we – or Squall rather – asked him for help," Zell added, and I could just see him bouncing in place, unable to restrain his relief at possibly finding something to _do._

"There's nothing that can be done," I said quietly, breaking up their battle plan and ignoring their varied sounds of disbelief. How could I explain to them that I _wanted_ to die? "My body can't take anymore."

"You don't even want to try?" Selphie urged, and it was in a voice so small that I immediately felt the same kind of guilt one would get if they had kicked a puppy or taken a piece of candy from a baby. It was like I had plucked out the sun and doused it in the ocean, leaving the world in darkness.

My hands clenched into tighter fists, buried in the crimson-spattered white of my sheets. How could I explain a _need_ to die, a _willingness_ to fall into that oblivion to these children who arguably had their whole lives ahead of them? Who had just risked everything for a chance to defeat a mad Sorceress and give the whole world back its own life? How could I tell them how much I missed my friends and lovers, how much I missed all the things I had lost, that what I had now was wonderful but not nearly _good enough_?

I couldn't. That was all there was to it. I _couldn't_ say these things to a handful of Orphanage children who had spent their entire existences being abandoned by those who should have cared. I couldn't tell them that.

I buried my inability to speak behind a cough, a wonderful excuse to keep my mouth shut as I spattered the edge of the sheet with more blood. The pain was settled inside of me with a dull, throbbing presence and I knew, at that moment, that it was never going to leave me. I would have to deal with this until my body reached its end.

"Selphie, honey, Vincent is probably right," Irvine said soothingly, his hands rubbing soothing circles over her back and shoulders. "We shouldn't waste time with a cure that isn't going to appear."

By Shiva, he meant to reassure Selphie but only succeeded in making me feel worse. Yet, I couldn't lie and tell them to try. That would be betraying everything I had been searching desperately to find.

A ruckus in the hallway broke through the uncomfortable silence and I looked up, only to watch as the door rattled open and Seifer stumbled through it, looking fit to kill. Squall appeared in the doorway just behind him, narrowed eyes a stormy silver, hands clenched into fists at his side.

"I never took you for a coward," the commander growled, his death-filled glare reserved for Seifer alone.

Seifer snarled with the air of a wounded mountain lion, shoulders hunched and eyes a vacant jade, lacking their usual smug air. At the sight of him, something inside of me clenched sharply and I curled forward, looking at the safety of my sheet-covered legs. Hades, of all the people I didn't want to hurt, Squall and Seifer were the ones that mattered most, and I had failed miserably.

I should have known Squall would handle it better. He was practical, logical, emotional behind his masks. He cared deeply, even if he didn't show it, and anyone who earned his trust entered his heart. He had the sort of strength that only emerged when it was needed, but until then lay dormant.

In contrast, Seifer, for all his pride and bluster, was still very much the scared child inside. So damn afraid of not being the best, of being left behind and forgotten. He reminded me so much of Cloud sometimes that it was frightening.

"Everyone out," Squall demanded, his gaze never leaving Seifer but his order pretty clear.

Selphie's jaw squared, a sure sign that she was going to protest. "But Squall--"

Those eyes flickered towards her for just an instant, a sea of stormy blue, and Selphie all but squeaked. She glanced between Seifer and myself before nodding jerkily, and patting my hand.

"I'll be back later," she promised, and there was a small part of me ridiculously comforted to hear that. I had been so quickly adopted into their fold that sometimes it still came as a surprise to me.

Quistis adjusted her glasses, giving me a long look. "We'll _all_ be back," she clarified, practically pushing Zell ahead of her. Irvine followed them at a much more sedate pace, looking stuck between relieved at no longer having to hide my secret, and tense that having it revealed only meant more pain for all of them.

I watched as they filed out one by one, passing by Seifer who refused to so much as look at me, and Squall who held the blond in place by glare alone. The aura rising around the commander – one that required, no _demanded_ obedience – was not to be denied. And even Seifer couldn't ignore Squall's stubbornness, at least, not without a battle resulting in much blood and many bruises.

Squall was the last to leave, tossing me a look that ensured _we would discuss this later_. And then he closed the door behind him with the distinct sound of a lock sliding into place. My eyebrow arched. Seifer had put up that much of a fight? Or perhaps he just knew the both of us better than we expected. Had I the ability to walk, I would have fled before facing the sorrows of those children.

Silence fell, with all the comfort of listening to nails on a chalkboard. Seifer's back was to me, his broad shoulders visibly trembling.

"Seifer."

He didn't turn, didn't look. I should have known he would make this more difficult than I needed it to be.

Biting back my sigh, I shifted on the bed, the mattress squeaking noticeably. "Seifer, look at me. You're not a child. I would prefer it if you didn't act like one." I swallowed thickly, the scratchiness in my throat rather painful.

"I don't see why I should," Seifer practically spat, only turning his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder with the corner of one jade eye. "Because last I recall, adults shared important information with other adults."

My fingers tightened around the sheets. "It is not something I found easy to say."

"Ah, yes, but Kinneas sure learned quickly enough."

"Irvine knew because he forced me to see Dr. Kadowaki and I pressed him into silence. Do not be angry with him, Seifer."

He sucked air through his teeth. "Why would I bother? I'm plenty angry with you, Sunshine."

His endearment for me, of which origin I never identified, lashed at my ears as surely as a thin whip. I flinched, but tried to avoid letting guilt consume me. If the feeling crashing over my body were any indication, I didn't have as much time as I would hope. Weeks perhaps, maybe a month.

"Do you really want to spend the rest of my life with your back to me?" I asked him instead, ever so quietly.

Seifer didn't answer immediately. I could practically see the indecision in the set of his shoulders, in the way he tilted his head. Knowing Seifer as I had come to know him, this was a truly cruel thing for me to do, leave him so early. Just when he was getting his confidence back, considering himself not a failure, this had to happen. And it was a battle he could not lift Hyperion against.

"I just..."

I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling so very tired. "--need some time," I supplied for Seifer, remembering that I had acted much the same way when I learned that Cid was dying. I had run and only in the end had I returned, regretting that I hadn't been there the whole time.

Seifer jerked his head in some semblance of a nod and strode towards the door, pounding a fist on it. "Leonhart, open this door," he demanded without even testing the lock. He knew Squall just as well as the commander knew him it seemed.

"Go ahead, Squall," I added, lifting my voice as much as I dared. "Let him out."

There was a click as the door opened, Squall looking in with narrowed eyes. I had known he would stick around. Before he could so much as berate Seifer, the blond slipped past him and into the hallway.

Squall watched him go before entering himself, without his array of friends and companions. For that, I was grateful. I had grown to care for the orphanage children as much as I had my teammates so long ago, but I couldn't withstand their concern and well-meaning attempts to fix me. I had the feeling only Squall could understand why I wasn't determined to try and find a cure, if there was one to be found.

He pulled up the chair on my side, his expression unreadable, but the turmoil plain behind his eyes. In these short years, Squall had become... well, I supposed the closest term for him would be "son". Yes, in many ways, Squall resembled the child I supposed Reeve and I would have had. I had taken on the role of mentor for him, and though it initially surprised me, I quickly grew fond of Squall.

"He's so stubborn," Squall muttered, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. Stormy eyes shifted away.

I let a smile curve my lips. "Not unlike a certain Ice Prince," I said, using one of Seifer's favorite nicknames for his sparring partner. "Seifer will come around. In the meantime..."

"I'm fine," Squall interrupted, his fingers doing an interesting job of entangling themselves around one another. "I suspected it a while ago, but I assumed you wanted your privacy."

Judging from the deep furrow in his brow, Squall was _not_ fine. And yet, he was the one to declare Seifer as stubborn.

Well, I would let the brunet have his "fine" then. If it was what he needed to keep his composure. "Isn't it strange?" I said instead, shifting on the bed as a spike of pain radiated down my left side, starting at my hip and striking through my toe. "Two years ago, you were certain I was a threat."

"Well, you have to admit, you didn't exactly look trustworthy."

A man dressed in black, bearing more firearms than most rifle ranges, and claiming to have lived over two millennia? No, I gathered I didn't resemble anything worthy of trust. And yet, it came anyway, slowly but surely.

Humor attempted to inject itself into the melancholy seeping through my bones. "Funny how things turn out," I repeated, quieter this time. "My students..."

"Kinneas will take over," Squall interrupted, before I could so much as finish the question. "I'll... I'll explain."

"Squall."

He shook his head, still refusing to look at me, so much like Seifer that it almost amused me how little they realized their similarities. "Don't," he denied, raking a hand through his messy hair. "I just..." He sighed, shoulder slumping. "And here I thought I'd finally found someone dependable who _wouldn't_ leave."

That hurt, stinging like a knife right through the heart. I hadn't intended for this to happen, and apologizing would be useless, but I felt it all the same. Was I wrong to believe in my eternal existence when it seemed so certain?

I paused, searching for the right words. Things such as these had never been my forte, and now I was in the uncomfortable position of comforting someone. Especially when I knew words would be of no salve.

I didn't want to fail Squall. Because I didn't want to see him return to the young man he had been when we first met. Someone broken and bleeding, hiding in a young woman's arms and hoping her ill-matched idealism and optimism would put a band-aid over wounds that couldn't be fixed by super glue alone.

Fingers tangled in his hair, Squall exhaled quietly. "It's unfair to feel sorrow, isn't it? Considering that you want this."

"No, it is understandable." Something trickled inside of me and I subtly coughed into my hand, watching the blood spatter onto the cloth with eerie fascination. "I miss them, Squall. And I am tired. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Not even for Seifer?"

How cruel of Squall to throw that in my face. And how very Commander-like of him. He was truly a fearsome opponent.

I met Squall's eyes, unable to hide the truth. "I care for Seifer very deeply, and I am grateful for the affection he's given me, but love and I are only passing acquaintances. I don't think I have anything left to give."

How awful of me to repeat my own words, the very same I had given to Reeve once upon a time. And the very same I recalled and continued to regret, over and over again. Right now, however, I honestly believed them to be true. Seifer was precious, but my heart was too heavy and too tired. I didn't have the energy to fight, not anymore.

Squall watched me, for seconds that seemed to drag into minutes. And then he took a deep breath. "He'll be back. He just needs some time. Once he realizes he's being an idiot anyway."

"I know," I said, and before I could say anything else, a coughing fit took over my senses, filling my body with tearing pain and the too familiar taste of blood.

* * *

 


	16. Epilogue

**Chronicles of Valentine**

**~Epilogue~**

"I didn't know how to say goodbye," Seifer admits hoarsely, breaking into my tale. His eyes are dry but something building so strongly behind them that I believed he wept without tears. "So I ran. Like a _coward_." His face twists, as though angry with himself for his own actions.

I weakly squeeze his fingers, to prove that there are no hard feelings. "Saying goodbye is the hardest part, but as a friend once told me, sometimes it's easier to just say goodnight."

"Goodnight?" he repeats, and laughs roughly, dragging my hand towards his lips and pressing a kiss to one shaking finger. "Something like, see you in the morning?"

I nod. "Something like. I know this world no longer believes in the Lifestream, but that doesn't mean it no longer exists, Seifer. It is the reason I don't believe in goodbyes."

He looks as though he's considering my words. And I think to continue, to explain more of what I mean, but the tightening in my chest prevents me. I cough again, the blood spilling over my tongue and out through my lips. I double over, the pain wracking at my lungs and tearing away more pieces of my precious organs.

Careful hands quickly urge me into a sitting position, allowing the blood to flow free so I don't choke. Another hand presses a cloth to my lips, catching the frothy, sanguine liquid. Each movement gentle and tender.

Just looking at him, no one would have believed Seifer capable of such actions. But then, few are able to look through a person's windows as I. Few are capable of seeing what could hide deep inside a person, begging to be unleashed.

"Better?" Seifer asks once the tremors subside, leaving me achy and dull all over, inside and out.

I can't reply in an affirmative because it would be a lie to do so, and of all things, I have promised not to lie to him. Not again, at any rate. There is no getting better for me. I can feel it. The death cycling through me, inching along my muscles and bone and sinew, creeping through every inch of my body like a disease.

My breathing is shallow, my color beyond that of death, and my eyes limp and lifeless. I can barely focus anymore, and were it not for my youthful appearance, one would probably believe me to be a man of more than eighty years. I gasp and wheeze for each breath, grip so weak that I can't even hold my own glass of water.

No, this Seifer holds to my lips, encouraging me to take a sip. Of course, my stomach rebels and I have to refuse with a mute shake of my head. What point is there in water when I can see the darkness encroaching on my vision?

Seifer sighs, setting the glass off to the side.

The room is silent for the most part. He had tossed the others out several minutes ago, leaving just us in the room. And Squall, thankfully, is forcing them to allow us our privacy. I understand their concern, but Seifer is the one I am most worried about. The others will recover, but Seifer... he means something more.

Warm hands encircle the cold fingers of my left and I manage a weak squeeze that is pathetic compared to my former strength. "Two millennia is a long time," Seifer comments.

"Even longer... when one is alone," I say in agreement, struggling to form the words without aggravating the scratchy feeling at the back of my throat.

"For some reason, it never really registered to me that you had lived all that time," the blond continues, his eyes looking lost and frightened, like a little boy. He tears his gaze away from me, focusing on the far wall as though.

I want to chuckle, but such a thing will only send me into another violent coughing fit. And there are things I want to tell Seifer before I let the darkness take me. The silence where the demons had once been is all too telling.

I draw in a slow breath, forcing myself to inhale slowly, cautiously, even as the tingle starts in my toes and stealthily creeps towards my knees. "Seifer, I want you to listen to me."

Wariness enters his eyes, but Seifer inclines his head, his palms so warm against my scarred fingers. If not for him, I would have forgotten the feel of another human. I am grateful that he, at least, is here. That way, I don't feel so alone.

With his attention fully on me, I grasp for the right words. What I want to say isn't nearly as good as what needs to be said. I've seen the cracks in this boy's heart, and I don't want to add to his wounds. Injuries that still bleed despite the passing years. I don't want him to add me to the list of those that have betrayed him.

But Seifer is much stronger than I realize. Than he realizes. Than everyone else has come to understand. It won't be long before he will come to grips with the truth. That I was dying long before we met, and it is my good fortune to have met my fate while drowning in happiness, rather than lingering in despair.

Seifer is going to be alright. Because while it seems he's alone right now, he's not. He won't suffer in solitude like he believes. They will be there for him, whether he wants them to or not. His friends are his family, and they will drag him out of his sorrow and force him to realize that he's not alone.

"I have lived a long time..."

Which is like saying the sky is blue and the grass is green, and wow, no matter how I look at it, the ocean is a really, really big puddle. But that is beside the point.

"... so believe me when I say something..."

Something being so indistinct right now. But I can't seem to form the proper words. Or the polite ones. Or the intelligent ones. The Turk training that has left me unflappable in all situations has all but faded. I can't even remember that past. Not anymore. It's fading with everything else.

Even if, in the back of my mind, I can remember mako eyes, and a charming grin, and the smell of cigarette smoke, and bubbly laughter and a printed fan, faded with time, but still somewhere in my personal belongings tucked close to several empty materia and the Dirge of Cerberus.

"... Life, even one like mine, is always worth living. The tiny things are always worth enjoying..."

Even if every memory is like a jab into your heart. Even if every broken piece of your past stings through you like a thousand knives. Even when they fade and you can only remember the little things – rough laughter, blond spikes, sparkling eyes, the smell of incense, the tinkering of machinery – it's _always_ worth it.

Always, always, _always_.

And I'm getting repetitive, even if it is only in my mind. I can feel the tingling in my knees. I don't know if my toes are still there. Not that it matters. The numbness creeps towards my thighs, my hips, my abdomen...

I close my eyes and swallow thickly, the copper taste of blood sharp on my tongue.

"... the past shouldn't hold you back. It should _never_ hold you back, but urge you forward. Always forward..."

I am such a hypocrite for saying so, especially if Seifer were to mention Lucrecia, but blessedly, he doesn't. He remains silent. If I opened my eyes, I could see his expression. But I've the feeling that if I do, I won't be able to maintain my own composure. It's not like I don't know what is coming.

I know what I'm trying to say, and I hope it's getting through to him. Words have never been my forte, even before my stint under Hojo's care. I just don't want Seifer to return to the mess I found when I arrived. To the wounded man hiding behind bluster and arrogance, to conceal where he is still cracked and bleeding.

"... Seifer, don't force yourself to be alone," I finish, the numbness reaching my mid-section now, creeping through my lungs. Each breath is like drawing fire, and the steady rhythm of inhale-exhale is now a matter of voluntary action. I can't rely on my own body anymore.

I can't feel Seifer's fingers.

Warmth cups my cheek and my eyes open of their own accord. Seifer is leaning over me, his eyes unguarded, and full of tenderness. It is a look few people have had the luck to witness. A part of me is very grateful for it, but I can't find the words. Not because I don't know what to say, but because I can't seem to talk.

My tongue is a numb, leaden weight in my mouth and there is a dull buzzing in my ears. The edges of my vision ripple with dancing black. I cannot remember the last time I told myself to remember to breathe and I hear it, a slowing, steady beat. A muffled, low sound.

_Thump. Thump._

Perhaps it is the sound of my own heart. Though significantly slower than it ought to be. I can't feel anything other than Seifer's fingers pressing gently against my cheek, and now, his lips over mine, warm and soft

He says something, his face pinched with worry, but my ears don't work anymore. Either that, or it is barely above a whisper. I see his lips quiver, and then that, too, falls into darkness. Whether my eyes have slid shut or my vision has ended, I don't know. I can't even guess.

It feels like I'm sinking, and I'm angry, with myself more than anything else. I didn't say all that I meant to say. I never said it. Not once. Not to anyone who deserved it. Not to Cloud or Reeve or Leora. Not to my dearest friends Cid and Shion.

I can't feel any of my limbs, but still, I have the distinct sensation of floating through something warm and welcoming. Sensation returns, but only distantly. A hand caresses my knee. One brushes over my shoulder. Someone lovingly guides hair out of my eyes. And a voice that I haven't forgotten, despite the decades, pours out of the dark.

"About time, Vince. Sure took ya long enough."

"We've been waiting for you," Another voice intrudes with an excited chirp, a giggle of happiness as another wisp of a touch brushes across my left hand.

"I told you. Not even stars last forever." A whisper of a touch, brushing against my leg, accompanied by an amused, gravelly chuckle.

Someone's arms wrap around me from behind, a chin settling on my shoulder. I feel an incredible warmth as a familiar scent washes over and through me. It feels so much like home. "We were beginning to worry. You always make us worry. Especially me."

Another achingly familiar laugh rings through the dark, which is already lightening to a pale green. A beautiful, evanescent jade.

"We knew you'd come eventually though," someone says, her voice filled with gentle kindness. Even now, I can see her smile. "You've always been one of us, even when you wouldn't admit it."

I can't see them, not just yet. But I can feel them. Oh, how I can feel their presence. All around me, close enough to touch, and in one case, actually wrapped around my body.

"You're tired, I know," she says sympathetically, and I _know_ that voice. Know it better than anyone who has spoken before. Know it in the deepest crevasses of my heart.

The arms around me tighten, the palms pressed tight against my belly, but he says nothing. Just holds me closer. I am his and he is mine in a way so much more different than the way my heart has leaned towards her. I feel a hand cup my face, gentle and so, so familiar. I turn my head into the touch, fingers as cool as I remember, her scent a strange mix of antiseptic and gunpowder.

"You can rest now," she says softly, and I dare say that my throat grows thick and scratchy. I can barely breathe. "You can dream."

I would have closed my eyes in relief, if they weren't already closed. Instead, I lean back into the embrace of home behind me, feeling something inside me _finally_ click into place. A feeling of peace sweeps through me, leaving me lethargic. I feel myself sliding into sleep, every bone and muscle and sinew melting away.

The last thing I hear is his voice washing into my ear, soft and familiar, sounding just like home.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

THE END


End file.
